


Storybrooke Singles (or: Emma Swan Decides Not To Die Alone After a Humiliating Snapchat Incident)

by coalitiongirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-11-14 02:39:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11198733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coalitiongirl/pseuds/coalitiongirl
Summary: "To commemorate this achievement and prove just how good at this I am, Storybrooke Singles has decided to take on a charity case.” Zelena claps her hands together. “Someone forever doomed to be alone if not for me."Emma says under her breath to Regina, “Which desperate sucker did she get for that?” Regina shrugs, tearing off another piece of Emma’s bear claw.Zelena raises her voice. “And now, give it up for the sad, pathetic lonely woman whose life I’m going to change forever…” Her smile widens. “Emma Swan!”Regina chokes on her bear claw.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to everyone who's been doing the handholding through my stint of writer's block lately and especially to Aimee for helping with a ton of the plotting and Sarah and Zohra for their technical support with Snapchat. Y'all are superstars <3 
> 
> This takes place two years in the future, but tbh I ignore whatever I want to from canon. You'll see.

The building is green. Completely, utterly green, as though it’s some kind of experimental art right between the pawn shop and Any Given Sundae– and hey, in retrospect, hadn’t those two shops been right next to each other before all of this? What kind of magic–

 

“The Small Business Association has threatened to fine her,” Regina comments from beside Emma. Three fingers are pressed to the edge of Emma’s chin, returning her dropped jaw to its place. “She’s responded by folding the cost of the fine into her monthly rent. Impossible.” She shakes her head, half fond, half exasperated. “It’s a hideous building, but it does suit Zelena.”

 

All of this suits Zelena, the building and the agency and the party they’re about to attend. Zelena is calling it her _100% Success Rate Extravaganza_ , and Emma doesn’t really think she can boast a 100% success rate when she’s only had three clients through her app, but she knows better than to question a Mills’s logic.

 

Mulan, who should know better, is grappling with the same question when they enter the building. (The walls are green. The tile is green. Mulan’s deputy uniform stands out, brown in a sea of emerald.) “You made one match, Zelena.”

 

Zelena scoffs, jerking her thumb up at the sign above them, emblazoned with _Storybrooke Singles_ . “I’m a professional. And two matches. Two _successful_ matches. _One hundred percent_.”

 

“I’m not convinced that we’re a success,” Mulan mutters. She brightens as she sees Emma and Regina. “Oh, there you are. You’re going to _love_ what she announces today.” Her eyes flicker to Emma and stay, which is…concerning.

 

Zelena swoops down to give each of them an air kiss on each cheek, pausing when she’s done with Emma to press her hands to Emma’s shoulders. “I’m so glad you’ve come,” she says, and there’s a terrifying glint in her eye. Emma gulps, mostly imperceptible.

 

Regina says, “Of course we did. I’m…relieved you’ve found something to do that doesn’t involve uprooting my rosebushes–”

 

Zelena’s eyes flash in outrage. “That was _once_ –”

 

“–My house–”

 

“Uprooting is hardly the word for it, isn’t it–”

 

“–Or the entire town,” Regina says.

 

Zelena scowls at her. “It was just a few tornados. It’s not my fault your town has no emergency preparedness policy for them.” She musses her daughter’s hair fondly. Robyn, who is dressed in green and hard to see unless you squint in her general direction, catches her mother’s hand and bites hard on her fingers. “Ow! Anyway, I’ve found my calling,” Zelena informs them, snapping a photo and immediately uploading it to the official Facebook page. “I’m _good_ at this. I wish you’d support me.”

 

“You made me go out with all three of your clients first,” Regina points out. “Not to mention how you nearly bit off my head when I tried kissing Mulan goodnight. I think that was plenty supportive.”

 

Zelena puts a possessive arm around Mulan, who rolls her head upward in a silent plea to the very green ceiling. “Please. You didn’t even pay me for the pleasure of the dates,” she shoots back. “Though at least I don’t need to include your perpetually single–”

 

“Whoa,” Emma says loudly. A bit too loud, maybe. They all stare at her. Even Mary Margaret and David blink at her from across the room. “You dated Mulan?”

 

Regina shrugs. “Just a little.” No one else in the room seems all that surprised at this revelation, which makes _no sense_ , because if Regina is dating women, that means–

 

 _Something_ . “You– you had a thing with Maleficent, didn’t you!” It comes out as a revelation and an accusation, the pieces of _that_ finally coming together three years late.

 

Regina looks baffled at both. “...Yes?” she says, as though it’s _obvious_. It is not obvious! None of this was obvious! Emma gapes and processes, very unsteadily.

 

Henry appears out of nowhere to stare oddly at her. “Mom, you’re being weird,” he informs her. “You’re not a homophobe, are you?”

 

Emma jerks away from him, outraged and flustered. “I’m not a homophobe!”

 

“I won’t have homophobia in my office,” Zelena says primly, pointing at the rainbow sticker on the wall behind her desk. “You’ll have to go.”

 

Emma doesn’t know how, _how_ this conversation has wound up here. “I’m not a homophobe!” she says again.

 

“That does sound like something a homophobe would say,” Marian says gravely from behind her. She’s balancing Roland on her hip and gives Zelena and Mulan quick hugs before she turns back to Emma. “You know, I spent two years hiding out in New York and I found it very accepting. Maybe it’s because you grew up in Minnesota,” she says thoughtfully. “I don’t know much about their–.”

 

“I’m _not_ – oh, never mind,” Emma says, defeated. “I’m going to get some food.”

 

There are pastries, catered by Granny’s. Ruby, who has been shipped in from Oz with her girlfriend and has conceded to being called another success story (“I _cursed_ them, Mulan,” Zelena had insisted when they’d all gone through the guest list. “That’s a perfectly legitimate agency technique.” She’d stabbed at _Item 058: Sleeping Curse_ on the Storybrooke Singles Official Date Request Form and smirked smugly), passes Emma a bear claw.

 

“Thanks,” Emma says, biting into it.

 

Ruby beams. “I made sure all your favorite foods were here. Before I found out that you were a homophobe,” she adds regretfully, as though she’d never hooked up with Emma before the curse had broken and hadn’t set up Emma’s Tinder profile to _Only Women_ the last time she’d been in town.

 

Emma pats her shoulder. “You’re a trooper, Ruby.” She glances back at Regina, who is immersed in conversation with Marian now. Regina actually being into women doubles the number of people Emma has to watch suspiciously around her, _dammit_. Emma glares at Marian for a long moment before Marian notices her and gives her a warm smile. Emma smiles back, defeated.

 

Regina sidles back over to her a few minutes later, stealing the bear claw out of Emma’s hand. “You can get your own,” Emma says, jerking a thumb at the plate. There are no more bear claws, but there are plenty of inferior pastries, and Regina has no right to–

 

“I just wanted a bite.” Regina licks sugar off her lips, and Emma stares at her tongue for a moment, nearly forgetting the bear claw. _Nearly_. Regina goes in for a second bite and Emma yanks it back, glowering at her.

 

Regina slides an arm around Emma’s waist, her fingers drifting to stroke her hip for a moment. “You’re ridiculous,” she breathes into Emma’s ear. Emma’s hand wavers where it holds the bear claw. “Just one more bite?” Regina murmurs. Her breath is warm against Emma’s skin, and Emma temporarily loses all capacity for thought. She’s breaking off a piece before she can reconsider, twisting to face Regina.

 

There are barely inches between them, Regina’s eyes sparkling with amusement as Emma lifts the piece to slide it between Regina’s lips instead of her own. There’s a heated, frozen moment where neither of them move and their gazes become loaded with something else entirely, and they’re interrupted only by the clinking of a spoon against a glass.

 

“All right! All right!” Zelena says from somewhere in the distance, and then there’s a _BOOM_ that might have been a sonic blast of some sort. Emma jumps, and Regina’s hand drops swiftly back to her side. “Pay attention to me,” Zelena orders, glaring at them.

 

“Sorry,” Emma mutters. Regina just dips her head, chewing the bear claw daintily.

 

Zelena ignores them both. “Thank you all for coming!” she proclaims. “Storybrooke Singles began as just a small app for singles, and we’ve been so successful that we’re expanding into this building. We boast a one hundred percent success rate!” She beams at the polite applause. “And today alone, a dozen new clients have signed up to find love. I’m quite exceptionally good at this, you know.”

 

Regina claps loudly, glaring at anyone who doesn’t join in. “Not supportive, my ass,” she mutters, nudging Emma until Emma claps wildly and hoots.

 

“Tone it down a notch, Emma,” Zelena says, frowning at her. Regina gives Emma an enigmatic smile. “Anyway. To commemorate this achievement and prove just how good at this I am, Storybrooke Singles has decided to take on a charity case.” She claps her hands together. “Someone forever doomed to be alone if not for me. I want to give back to this wonderful community and my dear friends at the Small Business Association.” She winks at her audience. A gaggle of unhappy-looking business owners in the corner of the room mutter unhappily.

 

Emma says under her breath to Regina, “Which desperate sucker did she get for _that_?” Regina shrugs, tearing off another piece of Emma’s bear claw.

 

Zelena raises her voice. “And now, give it up for the sad, pathetic lonely woman whose life I’m going to change forever…” Her smile widens. “Emma Swan!”

 

Regina chokes on her bear claw. A few feet away, Mary Margaret says, “Yes. Yes!” and applauds with all her might for poor, pathetic, lonely Emma Swan.

 

* * *

 

“No,” Emma says vehemently. Mary Margaret looks disappointed. Regina’s still laughing silently, _damn her_ . “No, I will not be your… _charity case_.”

 

The party has been cleaned up with a wave of Zelena’s hand, the guests escorted out, and Emma’s finally permitted to speak again. “And I’m not doomed to be alone forever!” she feels obligated to point out. “I made a _choice_ to take a break from dating–”

 

Zelena brushes that off. “That’s what all sad, single people say.” She ticks off her fingers. “It’s been two years since your last relationship, and it was terrible. You spend more time with your mother than you do people your age.”

 

“My mom _is_ my age,” Emma protests.

 

“Not one, but _two_ failed engagements.”

 

Well, one of those is _definitely_ not her fault. “ _You_ set me up with a flying monkey!”

 

Zelena is unmoved. “He was a gentleman.” She pats Emma’s hand. “It’s all right to admit it, Emma. You’re not getting any younger, and I’m sure your mother is still hoping for grandchildren.”

 

“She really is,” Henry, her mother’s actual, previously existing grandson, pipes up helpfully.

 

“You’re– she’s– has everyone here lost their mind?” Emma sputters. “I don’t _want_ a date. I’m perfectly happy on my own. I have– my son, my–”

 

“Please don’t say _my mom_ ,” Zelena says, shaking her head sadly. Emma glowers at her. Zelena lowers her voice to a stage whisper. “I know you have needs, too. I can sense your sexual frustration from a mile away.”

 

Mary Margaret nods sagely. Henry says, “And _that’s_ my cue to leave.”

 

Emma waits until he’s out the door before she lowers her voice to a hiss. “I’m not _sexually frustrated_. I have…there are plenty of ways to take care of that without a– oh, god. I’m not talking to you about any of this.”

 

“No, please go on,” Regina says, leaning back against her chair. Her legs are crossed, perfectly shaped and toned and wholly distracting. “We don’t talk nearly enough about this.”

 

Mulan– stunning, gallant, perfect Mulan– says pointedly, “Emma, isn’t it your shift at the station right now?”

 

Yes. Yes, it is. “I love you,” Emma says fervently.

 

Zelena gives her a dark glare. Mulan says, “I don’t date homophobes,” the hint of a smirk in her eyes. Zelena is definitely rubbing off on her–

 

–and oh, god, she hadn’t meant it _that_ way, _brain_. Regina and Zelena chatting about Emma’s sexual frustration has opened a whole host of doors that Emma had never intended to– “Work. Anyway. I have to…go work right now.” She rises, fleeing for the door.

 

“You have a meeting for tomorrow morning at nine o’clock!” Zelena calls after her, and Emma determinedly ignores it until she’s safe outside the green monstrosity of a dating agency, hurrying to her office.

 

So that had been a nice, humiliating morning. “I’m _not_ sexually frustrated,” she says to no one at all after a long ten minutes of stewing over it. Okay, sure, she hasn’t even _gotten off_ in a while, but she’s been…busy. Distracted. Maybe she’s just starting to feel it, and that’s what Zelena had seen.

 

“I never said you were,” says a voice from the doorway. Regina is leaning against the door frame, still with that damnable smirk on her face. “I’m not coming after you over this,” she says, sauntering into the room. “I’m pretty sure I would have been Zelena’s first choice if she hadn’t been worried about it looking like nepotism.”

 

“You could look a little less smug about it,” Emma mutters. Regina, somehow, has the skill to appear perpetually satisfied, whether she’s been single for years or wandering through the woods on a camping trip with her worst enemies. “I’m not _frustrated_. I’m perfectly comfortable with how often I…” Her cheeks flame. Regina looks a little flushed herself without the protective cover of half their family. “Anyway. I’m not signing up.”

 

“She charges more than you’d think,” Regina says warningly. “And if you ever changed your mind, I don’t think she’d take you back for free.”

 

 _Wait a minute._ “Wait a minute,” Emma says, staring at Regina in sudden horror. “You think this is a good idea, don’t you?”

 

Regina shrugs, the smirk finally fading. “I think it _has_ been years since your last relationship, and…” _Oh_. It’s the same old argument, then, the one they haven’t had in over a year. “I can’t help but think that you would have gone through with it if not for me.”

 

“Not you,” Emma says swiftly. “You weren’t the one who made me…you know.” This is a different conversation today, one that’s finally beginning to make sense, because Regina _does_ like girls and Emma kissing her best friend on the night before her wedding takes on a whole different hue now.

 

It had been a mistake then, she’d thought, a desperate kiss that had been an indulgence more than any kind of overture. She’d realized then how little she’d wanted to get married, yes, but it hadn’t been like she’d left her fiancé for Regina, right?

 

Maybe it had felt that way to Regina, who’d kissed her back but Emma had assumed it had been out of mere politeness. Maybe that’s a part of the guilt Regina had carried that had always seemed overblown. “It wasn’t you,” Emma says again, reaching for Regina’s hand and then squeezing it. “It was me. And I’m glad I did. This really has been my choice.” How often does she get any choices? She’d been relieved after the broken engagement, been grateful for a breath of fresh air, and maybe she’d overdone the whole _single_ thing a bit after, but she hadn’t exactly had people lining up at her door, so–

 

“To live a life of eternal celibacy?” Regina quirks an eyebrow, the tension in the room easing just a hair. “I did hear this was a world without happy endings.”

 

“You’re an asshole,” Emma informs her.

 

Regina laughs. “I know. Go meet my sister tomorrow. Give it a try.” Her eyes gleam with something that is certainly not pure of heart. “I hear she’s thinking about making you the face of her agency. She’s talking about maybe featuring you in a _Bachelorette_ -style event. I told her–”

 

“That I’d rather go back to hell than do that?” Emma says, eyes narrowed.

 

Regina continues as though Emma had never spoken. “That I had a few eligible bachelors in mind for the event.” Her smile is reminiscent of a cat stalking toward a cornered mouse.

 

Emma is feeling about as helpless as said rodent right now. “You really haven’t forgiven me for breaking your curse all those years ago, have you.”

 

Regina adopts an artificially concerned expression. “Oh, Emma. I only want you to be happy. And if I can be made…absolutely _delighted_ in the process, well…” Her lips curve into a wicked smile, one that demands a snappy retort and not, as Emma winds up returning instead, an open-mouthed stare, lips parted and traitorous mind blank again.

 

She’s jolted back to the present by her phone. “Henry!” she says, staring down at the notification. It’s from Snapchat, which she definitely has downloaded just because Neal likes playing with the filters and not because its camera is particularly flattering to her cheekbones. “It’s Henry. What a great kid. Wonder what he’s up to.”

 

Regina rounds the desk, a hand on Emma’s back as she peers down at the picture on the screen. It’s Henry and Robyn with one of the special filters for today, a crown on each head as they beam at the camera, and there’s a location sticker at the bottom of the screen that reads _Head Bitch In Charge_ with a little apple punctuating it. “They’re at home,” Emma offers, recognizing the sticker.

 

Regina squints at the image. “Who added that tag to the house?”

 

“Uh.” Emma winces. “I did that a few days ago. I thought you’d find it…endearing?”  

 

Regina waves that off impatiently. “Well, yes, of course I do. But I don’t want _Henry_ using it.”

 

“Maybe if he knew you were actually using your Snapchat,” Emma says slyly. Regina had gotten as far as downloading the app before she’d left it in the untouched wasteland that is her social media folder. (Okay, she actually uses Twitter sometimes, but Emma doesn’t count picking fights with assorted corporations for fun as _social_.)

 

Regina rolls her eyes. “And that’s my cue to get back to work.”

 

“It’s Sunday,” Emma points out, but Regina is already walking out, her hips swinging as she moves. Emma pauses to stare at them for a moment of pure admiration.

 

And okay, yeah, she’s been staring at Regina a little more than absolutely necessary, which _maybe_ might be a sign that she’s…at least a bit sexually frustrated these days. That doesn’t mean Zelena’s right about her.

 

She doesn’t need a _date_ to manage this.

 

* * *

 

She waits until her shift is over before she heads back home. _Home_ for the past two years has been the mayoral mansion, because it really hadn’t made sense for Emma to live in a big, empty house alone when Henry could have one stable home. That’s what Regina had said, anyway. _How_ she’d said it had been soft-eyed and uncertain, her hands wringing together as though she hadn’t known if Emma would want to move in with her.

 

Emma had turned her down because hadn’t they just kissed their way out of a wedding and it would be a Bad Idea? But then she’d somehow wound up there anyway, her clothes and belongings making it to the mansion after late drinks and never quite making it back to her house. Eventually, she’d followed suit as well. Marian had picked up the lease on the house when she’d returned from New York.

 

So now she lives at the mansion. Which is rather unfortunate when she’s been kind of…obsessing a tiny bit about one of its other inhabitants today, because said inhabitant’s asshole sister had made some asshole comments about Emma being sexually frustrated, and somehow they’d stuck.

 

 _Asshole_ , she thinks one more time for good measure, and she pushes open the door and calls, “Anyone home?”

 

Silence. Emma exhales a sigh of relief and heads upstairs to her room, tossing her phone onto her bed and folding her arms as she surveys the dresser for a grim moment.

 

The item she’s looking for is buried deep in one of her drawers, under a dozen t-shirts that she never wears. She tugs out the vibrator and eyes it with sudden determination. So it’s been a while. _Whatever_. “The magic hasn’t gone out of our relationship,” Emma informs the vibrator. It does not respond, because it’s a vibrator.

 

Which is fine. Frankly, she’s kind of sworn off those who can respond, so this is exactly what she wants. She locks her door and tugs off her pants, climbing onto her bed and sliding a speculative hand over her own stomach and then downward.

 

It’s all very clinical, and she’s unsurprised when her fingers come back dry. _Dammit_ . She shuts her eyes, trying to remember something– _anything_ – that might–

 

Unbidden, her thoughts drift to that night two years ago when she’d kissed Regina. Regina hadn’t immediately pulled away, had kissed her back with the same fierceness, and Emma had completely lost it for a moment there. She’d attacked Regina’s lips, had stuck a hand up Regina’s shirt and grasped Regina’s ass with her other hand–

 

–that same ass that she’d ogled today as Regina had walked from the station, and Emma can finally feel herself getting wet at the memory of it. This is a _bad, bad idea_ , Regina’s her housemate, but Emma can’t stop her brain from _thinking_ . _Don’t imagine Regina naked_ – and there she is in Emma’s mind’s eye, glorious and untouchable. _Don’t imagine Regina on this bed right now_ – and she’s crawling across it to splay a hand on Emma’s abdomen, moving it in soft circles as she settles on Emma’s hips. _Don’t imagine Regina crouching down and sliding the vibrator into_ – maybe she’s just as bad as her brain is, but Emma groans Regina’s name anyway, easing the toy into her suddenly slick–

 

 _BEEP_ . Emma jolts, still miserably aroused and on the verge of something like a revelation as another object entirely vibrates beneath her. “Not now, not now,” she chants, yanking the phone out from under her to toss it away. Her eye catches the screen– it’s Snapchat, it’s a snap from _Regina_ , and she’s opening it before she can stop herself, the vibrator still lodged firmly between her legs.

 

Regina has figured out how to take a selfie with a filter, and she’s smirking at the screen with the crown on her head, an eyebrow raised and her expression so _Evil Queen_ that Emma gasps and clenches around the vibrator, choking out Regina’s name as she flicks the button to intensify the vibrations. “Oh, _fuck_ . Fuck, Regina, _shit–_ ”

 

Her hand is tight around the vibrator, her thumb pressing into her clit, and her orgasm hits so hard that she lifts off the bed for a moment, a little magic sparking around her as she crashes back down. She’s gasping as she rides out the last of it, slumping against her mattress and sated in a way that she’d _really_ needed, and she reaches for her phone again with a sluggish hand to stare at the screen.

 

Regina stares back, her eyes wide and her mouth opening and closing wordlessly. The video chat button on Snapchat is green where Emma had accidentally pressed it to start it, mocking her from its corner. “Oh, my god,” Emma whimpers. Regina keeps staring. Emma would think that she’s looking at a still photo if not for the way the screen keeps shaking, just a tiny, constant tremble. “Regina, _please_ tell me I just called you this second.”

 

Regina swallows. It’s loud enough that Emma can hear it over her own heavy breathing. “Regina,” she says weakly. “This is…this is all Zelena’s fault, I swear.” The vibrator is still inside her, _god_ , this is a nightmare. This is _definitely_ on Zelena. Emma had been perfectly fine until she’d brought up–

 

She tries for a joke to lighten the tension. “You were the one who said we don’t talk nearly enough about my…my sexual frust–”  

 

Regina finally speaks, her voice hoarse and strained. “Maybe I should have tried Instagram instead,” she says faintly, and she cuts the video before Emma can respond.

 

Dinner is fun that night.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Emma makes it all the way to the station before she whirls around and stalks across the street and down the block to the hideously green building beside the pawn shop. “Fine,” she says, throwing the door open. “This can’t be any more humiliating than yesterday, and I have no shame left to spare. None. Zero.” Maybe tonight, she and Regina might make it to a place where they can manage eye contact again. Or be in the same room together alone, even. Baby steps. “Do your _absolute fucking_ worst.”

 

Zelena turns around at her desk, her smile wide in that classic Zelena way that borders the fine line between friendly and terrifying. “Challenge accepted,” she says.

 

_Definitely terrifying._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write a lighter longfic, and this is my official attempt at it! I will update approximately weekly (I am off all summer so it may be more often or arbitrary, who knows). Please let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot beLIEVE the reception to the first chapter of this, omg. Thank you all so much <3 and I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

“Zelena, work started twenty minutes ago. I don’t have time for…this,” Emma says, staring at the desk in front of her.  _ This  _ is a thick stack of papers attached to a clipboard and reading  _ Storybrooke Singles Questionnaire _ .

 

Zelena shrugs, unbothered. “You should have made an earlier appointment, then.” 

 

“You made my–  _ fine _ ,” Emma sighs. She knows better than to fight with a Mills. Last week, she’d gotten into an argument with Regina about the color of the  _ sky _ , of all things, and Regina had turned it purple for a full day to spite her. And Regina’s the  _ reasonable  _ one.

 

The reasonable one who has, perfectly reasonably, refused to make eye contact with her once after the incident-that-shall-not-be-named yesterday. They’d had a stilted dinner and had weaved around each other in the kitchen afterward, heads down as they’d washed dishes and made strained small talk. This morning, once the all-consuming shame had settled in, Emma had hidden upstairs for the duration of breakfast and emerged once Regina and Henry had left.

 

Regina had left her a plate of waffles because Regina is still probably the best person she knows, minus all that subjugation and murder stuff. Emma had washed all the dishes in the sink rather than texting her a  _ thank you _ .

 

Someday, they’ll get past this, but that day is probably not today.

 

She takes a deep breath, compartmentalizing her chagrin for a time when Zelena can’t ask about it and subsequently tell everyone in town, and flips the questionnaire open. It’s a total of twelve pages, sporting a few forms to sign bearing terms and conditions and one titled  _ Assumption of Risk Waiver _ . After that is a page of– “Why do you need my insurance info?” Emma asks warily.

 

Zelena waves a hand. “Do you really want to waste time when you’re already late to work?” Emma puts it in. Zelena is very fortunate that Emma is just this desperate right now.

 

The next page is finally something that makes sense. Emma writes in her name, age, and pauses at  _ Interested in…  _ before she checks the  _ Whatever  _ box. There’s a list of questions beneath it, and the first few are standard questions.  _ Do you prefer singles events or one-on-one dates? Are you allergic to cats, birds, or dragons? What are your favorite activities? Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?  _ Emma blinks.  _ Additionally, would you be interested in spooning the agency staff?  _ Emma blinks again.

 

Zelena takes a break from hovering over her to snatch her questionnaire away. “Hey!”

 

“That one was just for Mulan,” Zelena informs her, digging around in her desk for a new questionnaire.

 

Emma leans back against her chair, staring at the green ceiling in a plea to whatever higher powers might exist. “How did she agree to date you?”

 

“No one knows,” Zelena says smugly, setting a new questionnaire down in front of Emma. “Here. Do this one.” 

 

Emma sits forward again obediently, signing the forms for the second time and returning to the list of questions. “Why do you need to know what size shoe I am?  _ Which Hogwarts house do you belong to _ ?” she reads, brow wrinkling.

 

Zelena is unfazed. “Well, I need to assess compatibility.” 

 

_ No fighting with Millses _ , Emma reminds herself. “I’ve always liked the idea of being in Hufflepuff,” she muses. 

 

Zelena gives her a scornful look. “That’s cute,” she says, “But I’ve known you for more than thirty seconds.” She swoops down to tick the box that reads  _ Gryffindor _ . 

 

Emma says meekly, “I thought this was a self-evaluation.” 

 

Zelena smirks at her. “And I thought you were fucking my sister, but apparently you just send her uncomfortable Snapchat–” 

 

Emma stares at her in absolute horror. “ _ No _ ,” she breathes. 

 

Zelena pats her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she says, this time a bit kindly. “Regina made me swear not to tell anyone.” 

 

“Have you?” Emma asks unsteadily.

 

Zelena says, “Next page!” Emma shuts her eyes very tightly, takes in a deep breath, and turns the page. This page is another self-evaluation, a list of statements with six circles beneath each one. The first statement is _I am very punctual._ Emma glances at her watch, sighs, and colors in the circle labelled _Somewhat_ _False_. 

 

Around  _ I have killed people in a non-war setting (Somewhat True) _ , Zelena gets her second client of the day. Merida gives Emma a suspicious glance and then says, “Mulan says that you can match me up with a sparring partner?” to Zelena.

 

“I can certainly match you up with a partner!” Zelena says, beaming, and digs for another questionnaire. Emma fills out  _ I would give up indoor plumbing for some decent chimera meat (Very False)  _ and  _ I am royalty or nobility (Prefer Not To Answer) _ as Merida puzzles through the insurance page.

 

There are seven pages of statements. Emma gives up on making it to the station at all this morning, and ticks off  _ Very True  _ to  _ I would have no qualms dating a fairytale villain.  _ The next question is  _ I would have no qualms dating a reformed fairytale villain _ , and she winces and hurriedly crosses out her answer to the last question, switching it to the much more neutral  _ Unsure _ .

 

She skips the entire page that Zelena has reserved for sexual positions, and she’s finally made it to the final page and is staring at  _ I have mommy/daddy issues (Prefer Not To Answer) _ in mild despair when her phone rings and jolts her from her near-stupor. “Sheriff Swan.” 

 

Granny’s voice is brisk and tinged with irritation. “I need you to remove someone from my premises.” 

 

“Oh, thank god,” Emma says, coloring in the _Very True_ circle for _I would leave Storybrooke if I could_ and hanging up. “I’ve got to go, Zelena. I’ll fill out the rest some other time.” 

 

“I’ll do it for you,” Zelena says magnanimously, and she snatches away the clipboard before Emma can protest. “You missed a page.” 

 

“Whoops,” Emma says weakly. “Silly me.” 

 

Zelena gives her an assessing look. “I can guess,” she decides, an eyebrow quirking. “Don’t forget, we have our first singles event this Thursday. It’ll be a sit-down meal. Bring a plus one.” 

 

“You want me to bring a  _ date  _ to your singles event?” Emma shakes her head. “No. No way.” This is already too much– this whole  _ agency  _ is too much, and she might be exactly as sad and pathetic as everyone seems to think she is but even she has limits.

 

“I want the room to be full,” Zelena corrects her. “And I know you’ll do it.” She squeezes Emma’s hand and smiles sweetly. “Because we’re friends.”

 

And okay, that might work from Regina, who has mastered that soft look that leaves Emma helpless to do anything but smile and agree, but Zelena is a different case. “I am not going to–” 

 

“Because we’re friends,” Zelena says again, squeezing harder. “And therefore I’ve known you for long enough to be very familiar with your crippling desire to please and appease your family and friends when they ask you for your help.” She raises her eyebrows expectantly. 

 

“I do  _ not– _ ” Emma begins, and deflates just as quickly, because  _ okay, yes,  _ Zelena has her number. Maybe Zelena will be able to fill out the rest of her questionnaire, after all. “I’ll consider it,” she says stiffly in an attempt to save face. 

 

“You’re my favorite!” Zelena calls after her as she makes a mad dash for the door before any more havoc can be wreaked. Emma barely manages a thumbs up before she’s gone, walking briskly toward the diner as she prepares for the worst–

 

–and finds Regina standing in the doorway of Granny’s in the middle of a shouting match with the proprietor, fireball and crossbow in hand and both looking as though they’re on the verge of using them. “What the hell is going on?” Emma shouts over them, and she sticks two fingers into her mouth to produce a piercing whistle. 

 

Regina finally stops, sees Emma, and looks away hastily, her cheeks darkening a tint. “We…” She composes herself, suddenly with the presence a queen again. Emma has to stare at her for an extra moment to be sure that she hasn’t suddenly grown a foot. “Mrs. Lucas is refusing me service on completely illegal grounds.” 

 

Granny scowls, unintimidated. “Illegal, my ass. I can lawfully refuse service to anyone I want.” 

 

“And I can change the law,” Regina shoots back. “Just give me a reason, I swear–” 

 

“Whoa, whoa,” Emma says, moving between them before this becomes a full-fledged  _ thing _ . “Can we all just…relax? What are you two arguing about?” 

 

Granny jerks a thumb at Regina. “This woman is a criminal!” 

 

Emma blinks. Well, okay, fair, but that’s never stopped Granny from welcoming Regina before. Business is business and Henry eats enough to singlehandedly support the diner. “Why?” 

 

Granny strokes the side of her crossbow, her brow furrowing. “She has lied to the public on six separate occasions,” she bites out. 

 

And yes, improbably, it is this again. Emma heaves a sigh and earns disapproving looks from both parties. “Look, maybe it’s time to…get over the curse?” she suggests. “You got microwaves and–” 

 

“No, not that,” Granny says furiously. “ _ This _ .” She bangs her hand on a paper on the counter, and Emma casts a wary eye at the other woman’s crossbow before she moves to read it. 

 

“These are…Yelp reviews?” Emma says uncertainly, staring down at them. She turns back to Regina, bewildered, and Regina huffs and sticks out her chin as she glares at Granny. 

 

The Yelp reviews are all one-star, and all of them are from very similarly named users. “I have  _ never  _ lied on a Yelp review,” Regina says, hands folded at her abdomen and eyes narrowed darkly.

 

“You called my rolls a mold-encrusted adventure in  _ staleness comparable to Emma’s Swan’s last boyfriend _ ,” Granny says furiously. Emma tilts her head, mildly offended.

 

Regina looks proud. “Some of my best work. Some of your worst,” she adds, because she’s nothing less than an asshole at the best of times. “Both of you.” Emma would poke her if she hadn’t nearly jumped out of her skin when Regina had brushed past her last night. 

 

Granny, who has no shameful Snapchat experience with Regina, raises her crossbow. “My kitchen is spotless! My grilled cheese is delicious! My pancakes are  _ not soggy _ !” She fires with stunning precision, and Emma dives in front of Regina just as Regina sends a fireball crashing toward Granny.

 

“Your lasagna is a travest–  _ Emma _ !” Granny echoes Regina’s cry, and  _ now  _ they’re both working together, hurrying toward Emma. Emma’s vision is blurring, her right side on fire–  _ literally _ , god– and her left burning with the pain of the crossbow bolt. “Emma,” Regina says breathlessly, lowering her to the ground. There’s a puff of purple smoke and they’re on Emma’s bed at home a moment later, Regina crouched over her. “Not  _ this  _ bed,” she says, looking suddenly sick, and a moment later they’re on Regina’s instead. 

 

Emma cringes and turns away from Regina, her cheeks flaming. Regina says, “You idiot,” almost fondly. Almost. “I had it under control.” Her hand runs over Emma’s side, gentle and healing as the crossbow bolt vanishes. “That just impaled itself on Granny’s subpar cheesecake,” Regina mutters. “Serves her right.” 

 

Her fingers are brushing against Emma’s bare skin and Emma sucks in a sharp breath that she attempts to disguise as a long-suffering sigh. “Would it have killed you to delete the reviews? Or at least apologize? You love Granny’s food.” 

 

“I do not. And I will not. It’s the principle of the thing,” Regina says archly. She turns Emma onto her other side, her fingers cool against Emma’s burnt skin. “Granny should be able to take a bit of constructive criticism without starting a witch hunt.” 

 

“Constructive criticism,” Emma repeats skeptically. “You called her grilled cheese a crime against humanity. Do you go on Yelp every time you have a complaint? Have you ever used it for anything positive?” 

 

Regina scoffs. “I’ve left many positive reviews.” A pause. “I once called the service at the pawn shop exquisite.” Emma forgets that they’re not making eye contact and twists to stare at her. Regina shrugs and looks away. “When Henry was helping out there.” 

 

“Ah.” 

 

“I’ve just never had a positive experience at Granny’s,” Regina insists. Which is  _ bull _ , because Emma still hasn’t forgotten how much of her bear claw yesterday had been commandeered, but the burn is healed now and they’re back to avoiding each other awkwardly. “I’m…I’ll just make lunch here,” Regina says finally, snatching her fingers away from Emma’s skin. 

 

Emma shivers and says, “I should head to the station. I’ve been at Zelena’s agency all morning.” 

 

“You’re using her services?” Regina sounds startled, though not unhappy about it. “What made you change your mind?” 

 

Emma laughs uncomfortably. “Oh, you know. I’m working on being a little less of a hot mess.” 

 

“Oh.  _ Oh _ ,” Regina says, putting the pieces together. “I. Uh.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma says miserably. “I’m just gonna…go.” She climbs off of Regina’s bed, inhaling just a bit of the scent of Regina’s shampoo before she goes, and hurries downstairs before they have to  _ talk about this _ .

 

* * *

 

Granny’s embargo on Regina– or Regina’s embargo on Granny’s, depending on who you ask– continues for several days with no end in sight. Emma doesn’t push, mostly because things are still  _ awkward as hell _ between them. They get better at acting as though nothing is wrong when they’re around Henry, who is dangerously insightful and can  _ never know _ , but when they’re alone… _ well _ . Fortunately, they don’t spend very much time alone anymore.

 

Which also kind of sucks, because Regina is pretty much the most present person in Emma’s life, and also one of her favorite people. She’d do anything for them just to  _ forget _ , and she even flips through some of Regina’s books in the vault to find a forgetting spell that she’s positive she’d bungle. 

 

There’s a post-it note on the page that reads  _ absolutely not  _ in Regina’s handwriting, which puts a cap on that ill-advised plan, anyway.

 

Emma has at least one distraction during this trying time– another frustrating and humiliating one, of course, because why would this week be any different? And Zelena had known exactly which buttons to push, which means that she spends the week hunting for a plus-one for the singles event.

 

She starts with her second-most reliable choice, which means taking Mary Margaret out to lunch at Granny’s (who is currently hanging a sign on the window that reads  _ No shirt, no shoes, no positive attitude, no service _ and glaring down Regina through the glass) and beginning with, “So here’s the thing. How attached are you to Dad?” Mary Margaret’s brow creases and Emma hurries on. “I mean, you’re  _ attached _ , yeah, but like…you’d explore new options? Temporarily? No pressure, though, if you don’t want to actually  _ date _ –” 

 

“I’m beginning to worry about you,” Mary Margaret says, shaking her head. “First the Snapchat incident, now this–” 

 

“Wait.  _ Wait _ . Why do  _ you  _ know about the Snapchat incident?” Emma demands, unaccountably betrayed. She’d thought that she and Regina had a solemn pledge to never,  _ ever  _ tell Mary Margaret anything they’d wanted kept secret. Is Regina  _ that  _ pissed, or–

 

Mary Margaret looks sympathetic, or possibly pitying. “It was a lot to process. She needed help from someone who’d actually  _ talk  _ about it,” she says, and Emma stares at her in disbelief. “And it just highlighted her point that you need her agency, which I completely agree with. It’s been two years, Emma.” 

 

“Zelena,” Emma says abruptly, suddenly relieved. “You mean Zelena told you.” 

 

Mary Margaret snorts. “Did you think  _ Regina  _ would come to me? I know about your secret pact.” At Emma’s startled look, she clarifies, “You two told me the last time we went out for drinks together. Then you listed a number of things I wasn’t supposed to know and tried to kiss Regina.” 

 

“I did not,” Emma says, horrified. Maybe she did. It’s all very hazy. 

 

Mary Margaret clears her throat. “Which reminds me, I’m perfectly supportive of you sexting your friends, but we should have a talk about consent.”

 

“Consent.” 

 

“It’s not okay to send Regina video like that without making sure that she’d consent to it,” Mary Margaret says. “ _ Beforehand _ .” She wrinkles her nose. “I can’t tell you how many of my students have made it to high school in recent years and have drunkenly decided it’d be hilarious to send me dick pics. Okay, it was one,” she concedes. “But you need to  _ ask  _ Regina–” 

 

Emma focuses on the least horrifying part of that reveal. “ _ You’re _ lecturing  _ me  _ on consent?” she demands. “You basically sold out Regina to force her into marriage with your dad! Do you think anything I’ve ever done compares to  _ that _ ?” 

 

Mary Margaret’s face does that thing where she isn’t sure if Emma’s kidding or not, and it blanks for a moment before it smoothes out. “Emma, I’m sensing some hostility toward your father today. Don’t you think we should talk about this?” 

 

Emma escapes that conversation as quickly as she can, stopping only to remove the curse that Regina has cast onto the diner that had turned all the croissants to stone (“They had it coming,” Regina says darkly from the sidewalk). By evening, she has David texting her bewildered apologies. She also has a new plan.

 

“Henry!” she says brightly after dinner on Tuesday. “You’re free this Thursday night, right? How do you feel about having some mom and son time?” Regina is standing in the kitchen, Henry’s friend Ava helping her wash dishes and also tossing her admiring-slash-adoring glances that Regina doesn’t notice. She’s still close enough to hear Emma’s invite, and Emma notices with chagrin that her shoulders are shaking as though she’s barely holding back laughter.

 

Henry gives her a wary look. “I don’t know. What do you have in mind?” 

 

Emma shrugs nonchalantly. “Anything, really. Hey, your aunt is organizing this thing–” 

 

“Mom,” Henry says very slowly. “Are you…asking me to be your date to Aunt Z’s singles event?” 

 

“It’s not a  _ date _ ,” Emma says defensively. From behind Regina, she can see that the other woman has a hand pressed to her mouth now. “It’s a…wingman kind of thing. You’re sixteen now. It isn’t weird.”

 

“It’s definitely weird,” Ava observes. She’s watching them with a speculative look, and Emma is rapidly descending back into the pit of public humiliation. “Not as weird as accidental Snapchat–” 

 

“What!” Emma says, aghast. “How!” Ava jerks a thumb toward Henry. 

 

Henry says, “Grandma was  _ really  _ traumatized.” He glares at them both. “So was I. I’m not going  _ anywhere  _ with you, Mom.” 

 

“Oh, look at that,” Regina says hastily. “I have to take this call.” She lifts the sponge to her ear and says, “Hello?” as she hurries out of the room, soap suds sliding down her arm. 

 

“Maybe that’s Granny trying to work out their differences,” Emma tries. Henry and Ava both stare at her. “I guess it’d be a bad idea to bring an under-eighteen to this event anyway,” she concedes. 

 

“I’m turning eighteen next week,” Ava says. Henry’s head jerks around to stare at her. Ava shrugs. “I love a woman in uniform.” She winks slyly at Emma. Emma freezes, considering her options–

 

“ _ No _ ,” Henry says, dragging a very disappointed Ava from the kitchen.

 

By Wednesday, Emma’s on the side of desperate that means cuffing a vandal outside the library (one of Marian’s Merry Men, and he’d been graffitiing  _ FUCK YOUR OVERDUE FINES  _ onto the door before she’d caught him) and then saying on a whim, “Hey, are you free Thursday night? There’s this singles event that seems pretty great–” 

 

“Are you asking me out?” he says dubiously. 

 

Emma yanks his hands together a little harder than might be absolutely necessary. “Did you not hear the part where I said  _ singles event _ ?” 

 

“Listen, Sheriff, I’m flattered, but I’m not your man,” he says, twisting around to face her. “Little John and I are seeing each other.” 

 

“What?” she says, surprised. “Is it serious?” 

 

“Pretty bloody serious.” He gestures at the door to the library, a dreamy–  _ dreamy _ , on a man she’s arrested at least a half dozen times for public urination– smile on his face. “Those were  _ his _ overdue fines. We’re thinking about getting a cabin together.” He cocks his head. “How are you and the mayor doing these days? Still shacking up in that mansion? Why don’t you ask her to this event?” 

 

Emma grimaces, taking his elbow to lead him to the patrol car. “It’s complicated.”

 

“Because of the Snapchat bit,” he says knowingly, and Emma can’t find it in herself to be embarrassed anymore. “She’ll get past it. You two just have to chat it out,” he says encouragingly. “Put your issues on the table, really resolve them together. Little John and I went through this after I found out that he still thinks he’s a flying monkey sometimes. Communication helps in relationships. As do bananas.” He gives her a reflective look. “We can talk about this more when I’m at the station all night. Quite frankly, you’re too pretty to be this pathetic.” 

 

Emma sighs, already exhausted in advance. She waves a hand and the cuffs snap open. “Just go,” she says. “Next time, keep the graffiti family-friendly, okay?” 

 

He bobs his head and Emma leans against her car, her fingers fiddling with the cuffs as she contemplates her next option.

 

* * *

 

Late patrol means sleeping in, and Emma wakes up at noon with a plan. She checks her messages and finds a reminder from Zelena ( _ Be at the agency tonight at eight and for the love of god, don’t bring HENRY _ ), then checks her Twitter and finds that Regina’s feud with Granny has migrated online.

 

“The last time you all fought with her, she cast a curse that froze you in time for twenty-eight years,” Emma points out when she stops off at the diner. “Is this really worth it?” 

 

Granny scoffs. “That was some silly squabble between Snow and Regina. This is  _ personal _ . You don’t think my rolls are stale, do you?” 

 

“Not usually,” Emma agrees. “But–”

 

“ _ Usually _ ?” Granny repeats, her eyes narrowing dangerously, and Emma makes a hasty retreat from the diner and hurries to Town Hall. 

 

“She’s taking a lunch break at her desk. You’re really going to show your face around here?” Regina’s secretary says, sounding impressed. “After the  _ Snap _ –” 

 

Emma says wearily, “I don’t want to hear it.” She pushes open the door and then hesitates in the doorway, her confidence draining out of her. “Hi,” she ventures.

 

Regina looks up, catches her gaze, and swallows. Emma holds her gaze, certain that Regina will take it as a challenge and not look away. “Emma,” Regina says, and her voice is still strained, but there’s something about the way her tone curls around the word  _ Emma _ that always makes Emma a little bolder and warmer. “What brings you here?” 

 

“I brought you mousse,” Emma says, unpacking the two cups carefully and settling down at the desk. “It’s…kind of an apology.”

 

“It’s the first thing you’re eating today, isn’t it,” Regina says, the disapproval as strong as the amusement in her voice. She spoons up some mousse. “ _ Henry _ has healthier eating habits than you. And you have nothing to apologize for. It was an accident.” Now the amusement is definitely stronger than the disapproval. “Yesterday afternoon, I had a meeting with DA Spencer, who offered his condolences for ‘what I had to witness.’” Emma cringes just a little. “I think you’ve suffered enough over this.”

 

“I don’t do that a lot,” Emma feels obligated to say. “I mean, I do  _ that _ – but not with you as– not  _ that _ . I mean, I don’t think about you like–” She winces at her own babble that might not be completely honest. “It was a really weird day,” she says helplessly.

 

“It was,” Regina agrees, licking her spoon and then sighing in ecstasy in a way that has Emma contemplating  _ that with that _ again.  _ No. Absolutely not. _ “This mousse more than makes up for it, though. Where’s it from? Tiana’s?” 

 

“Granny’s,” Emma says slyly, and Regina looks askance at her. “Regina, come  _ on _ .” 

 

Regina sighs heavily. “Fine.  _ Decent mousse _ . That’s as much as I’m going to say about it.” She navigates her browser to Yelp, a scowl on her face. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she says, lightly teasing in a way that belies her expression.

 

Emma leans back, willing away the flush that that threatens to call up. “I’m so glad you think so,” she says, matching Regina’s tone. “Because your sister is making me go to this singles’ event tonight and she wants me to bring a plus one, so–”

 

Regina smirks at her computer screen. “Took you long enough.” 

 

And, well… _ good _ . 


	3. Chapter 3

There’s something different about Regina tonight, something Emma can’t put her finger on. She glances at her about a dozen times as they leave the house and climb into the car, and she still can’t figure it out. Had she changed her hair? Maybe her makeup is softer than usual. The dress she’s wearing is definitely new, one touch too dressy to be one of the corporate mayor dresses she wears on Emma’s favorite workdays.

 

The dry sarcasm, of course, is nothing new. “If you’re trying to burn a hole through me, I remind you that you have magic,” Regina says, eyes facing front and a smirk curling at the edges of her lips. 

 

Emma rolls her eyes. “You look different tonight,” she admits. “I’m trying to figure out why.” 

 

Regina laughs. “Now that’s a cliche if I’ve ever seen one.” She turns at last, eyes glittering with amusement. “What, is this the prelude to  _ something more _ ? Are you suddenly seeing me in a new light? Have you suddenly realized that you’ve been madly in love with me all along?” 

 

Emma leans back against her seat, pressing her lips together for a moment. “Definitely not that,” she says. “I was thinking it might be your hair.”

 

“I didn’t think so,” Regina says, her face suddenly unreadable. “Let’s get going, shall we? Zelena has promised me an entertaining night.” 

 

“You told Zelena you were coming with me?” That’ll probably good for another dozen comments from Zelena that Emma doesn’t know how to respond to without having to beat herself up to defend Regina’s honor. Or something.

 

Regina shakes her head. “I think she assumed that I would be. She’s been sending me updates via Snapchat since yesterday morning.” She contemplates her phone. “A little flame has appeared next to her name on my account. I think that the app must have some tool that allows it to zero in on magic users, because I have one with Mal, too. My concern is that I don’t have it with you, which makes me think that we’ve been neglecting your training while Storybrooke has been quiet–” 

 

“It’s a streak, Regina. It means you’ve sent each other snaps regularly for a few days.  _ Now  _ you’re using Snapchat? With Maleficent? What are you sending each other?” Emma asks suspiciously, fingers gripping the passenger seat on either side of her.

 

“A streak,” Regina repeats thoughtfully. “That would explain the flame next to Henry’s name. I thought we might have to drop him off a cliff and see what happened.” Emma waits, on edge, too caught up on Mal-related wariness to focus on what’s an admittedly horrific plan but might be a nice outing. Regina exhales, a sharp laugh. “Don’t fixate, Emma. My snaps with Mal are strictly platonic. You’re still the only person to have sent me–” 

 

Emma jumps in swiftly. “Did you think I asked you a question? That’s so weird. I didn’t say anything. At all. Ever.” 

 

“That’s the dream.” Regina starts the car at last, still grinning to herself. “And it is my hair, by the way. I had it trimmed this afternoon.” 

 

“Oh.” It’s still soft and bouncy and falls just above Regina’s shoulders. If it had been trimmed, it had been a miniscule bit. “Well, it works. You look…”  _ Beautiful _ is on her tongue, and she swallows it back and manages, “Good.” No, that’s probably too enthusiastic. “Really…okay.”

 

“You flatterer.” Regina nudges her. “You look fairly adequate yourself.” She parks outside the agency, flipping her hair over her shoulder and leading the way into the building. Emma tilts her head as she watches Regina go, and it’s only when there’s a smack on her arm that she jumps. 

 

“Inside,” Mulan says, moving past her. “If I have to go to this, you have to come with.” 

 

“You’re  _ dating _ –” 

 

Mulan holds up a warning hand. “Debatable,” she pronounces. “Get inside. You’re going to be late, and you don’t want to miss this?” 

 

“I don’t?” 

 

Mulan smirks–  _ smirks _ , as though she knows something Emma doesn’t, and Emma follows her inside with some trepidation.

 

The room is surprisingly crowded. Maybe Zelena really is good at what she does (which is, of course, blackmail, judging from the number of reports Emma had gotten at the station these past few days), because Emma counts over a dozen singles wandering through the agency, making awkward small talk as Zelena struts around tugging them together. “You two  _ must  _ get to know each other,” she says, patting Belle’s shoulder and then straining to reach Lancelot’s. “You both stated a strong interest in leaves–” 

 

“ _ Leaving _ ,” Lancelot corrects her, his eyes flickering across the room where– yep, Guinevere is chatting with Merida and… _ Tamara _ ? 

 

“Zelena, have you been raising the dead for this event?” Emma feels obligated, as the sheriff of the town, to inquire. 

 

“Emma! Darling,” Zelena says cheerily, pushing forward another dubiously alive woman. “Have you met Cruella?” 

 

“Killed her, actually. Not that that’s ever stopped her before. Nice to see you again.” Emma notices distractedly that Regina is sitting on Zelena’s desk, chatting with a man she doesn’t recognize. Is that a real smile or a mayoral one? She squints, taking a step forward and then another, nearly tripping over Marian’s feet in the process. “Dammit! Sorry, Marian. How’d you get roped into this?”

 

Marian shrugs. “Zelena insists that I owe her for saving me from  _ a lifetime with an insipid husband _ —”

 

“That's fair,” Emma says, nodding. 

 

Marian flashes her an exasperated smile. “Personally, I thought she hid me away in New York to screw with Regina, but who am I to question Zelena?” She glances around the room, raising an eyebrow. “She didn't pick a bad group, either. I could date some of the people here. Who’s that?”

 

Emma follows Marian’s gaze to the man now chatting with Cruella. “That's Merlin. He’s supposed to be dead.”

 

“Aren't we all?” Marian says knowingly. Emma doesn't have a response for  _ that _ . “Anyone catch your eye? You keep staring at—” She cranes her neck and then lets out a rueful sigh. “Regina.” 

 

“I just want to know who she's talking to,” Emma says, a scowl beginning to settle on her features. “She has this tendency to date assholes–”

 

“Can’t argue with that,” Marian concedes. “Naveen’s a pretty decent one, though. As far as men go. He’d be good to her.” 

 

“Not as good as I could be,” Emma says stubbornly, and realizes a moment later what she's said. “As a  _ friend _ ,” she adds quickly.

 

Marian gives her a pitying look. “You brought her as a date to a singles’ event, Emma.”

 

“Whoa, whoa,” Emma objects, quick to put a stop to that line of thinking. “First of all, she's not a  _ date _ , she's a  _ plus one _ .” Marian’s expression does not indicate that she sees the nuance in that distinction. “Like a second single to pad out the event. Didn't Zelena tell you to bring someone, too?”

 

Marian’s eyebrows are high enough to hit the ceiling by now. “Is that what you're going with? That we were…somehow required to find another single to attend a formal event in which we...go home with another date?” 

 

“I’m not going home with anyone but Regina,” Emma points out, which does not help her argument, surprisingly. “Okay,  _ seriously _ , do you think that this is my fault when Zelena exists?” 

 

“This could be either of you, to be honest,” Marian says, tilting her head. “You’re both terrible in really different ways.” 

 

“Thanks.” Emma darts a glance back at where Regina had been and sees that she’s gone. Naveen is still standing there, staring perplexedly in their direction, and Emma shifts and suddenly catches a whiff of Regina’s perfume right behind her. 

 

“You two are looking cozy,” Regina says, sliding a hand onto Emma’s arm. She sounds remarkably unfriendly, and Emma looks between Marian and Regina for a moment, baffled at the coolness between the two friends. Marian is holding back a laugh that Regina doesn’t seem to notice. “Isn’t this nice? Zelena bringing all of us together.” 

 

“You know what’d be nice?” Emma says thoughtfully, mostly to dispel the tension. But it’s a good idea. She doesn’t know why anyone hasn’t come up with it before. “An actual culture around friendship instead of dating. You know, you go out for dinners with someone, get to know them, eventually–”

 

“–move in with your gal pal,” Marian agrees sagely. “Build a family with her, even.” Regina is staring daggers at Marian. Marian is unfazed. “Then what? Some kind of legal partnership to formalize it all? Maybe with friendship rings.” She pats Regina’s hand. “And there’s something to be said for friends taking care of each other’s needs–” 

 

“Have you met Merlin?” Regina says, giving Marian a sharp push in the direction away from Emma. “You like trees, right? We found him inside a tree. I’m sure you’d have lots to talk about.” 

 

Marian gives her a sly grin that only makes Regina’s eyes sharper. “I’m only going with this because he’s the most attractive person in this room,” she says, sauntering off.

 

Emma says, “She’s wrong,” because Merlin might be good-looking but his hair doesn’t flip like Regina’s. Regina’s fingers wrap around Emma’s arm, tight but not painful. 

 

There’s a loud clinking from the center of the room, followed by a crash and tinkle of broken glass. “Dammit– take Robyn– pay  _ attention _ , lonely singles!” Zelena orders, passing her daughter to Mulan. “Now that everyone’s here, let me explain tonight’s event.” She waves her hand.

 

Quite suddenly, they’re in the woods. Emma nearly trips, staring around her with growing misgiving, and Zelena says, “I’ve set up a magical perimeter that closes off a section of the woods. No one leaves, no one enters. You’re going to get to know each other!” she says cheerily. They stare at her. She considers them. “Though I do have to say, none of you are dressed appropriately.” 

 

It’s so absurd that Emma’s having trouble processing exactly what’s going on, and she isn’t the only one. Cruella is spluttering something disbelieving, Merlin is laughing, and Naveen lets out a curse. Zelena says, “Oh, but I’ve supplied sleeping bags!” She smiles winningly and takes Mulan’s hand, tugging her with her from the clearing. In Mulan’s arms, Robyn is waving her hands and giggling. “Have a good night!” she calls after them. 

 

The moment of frozen disbelief falls, and the clearing breaks out in chatter and argument. Emma looks around at her companions. Ursula and Cruella are already arguing about something, Will Scarlet is stealing something straight out of Merida’s bag, and Belle squints at the pile of sleeping bags before she announces, “There are only seven sleeping bags and fourteen of us.” 

 

“Solid tactic,” Tamara says. Marian nods in agreement.

 

Emma says, “Okay, I’m out of here,” and raises a hand to call her magic.

 

Regina grabs her hand. “Wait,” she says.

 

“ _ Wait _ ?” Emma repeats. “What’s– what the point of having magic if we can’t teleport out of terrible singles events? Why aren’t you going?” 

 

Regina shrugs. “Zelena promised me an entertaining night.” 

 

Around them, the others are scattering already, grabbing sleeping bags from the pile at the other end of the clearing and yanking them away from each other. Will complains loudly about the lack of food, and Ursula complains loudly about the lack of water– though Emma’s pretty sure she doesn’t mean it the way that the rest of them do. Emma’s beginning to develop a migraine. “I’m not staying here, Regina. I do have limits to my…whatever Zelena called it. My  _ crippling desire to please my friends and family _ .”

 

Regina looks doubtful. “I don’t think so.” She lowers her voice to what might be beseeching if she doesn’t also sound like she’s trying not to laugh. “Emma, these people are trapped in the middle of the woods without anyone to protect them. You’re not really going to leave them alone and defenseless, are you?”

 

Emma can feel the stirrings of guilt already. She shakes it off, common sense prevailing. “No– these people  _ grew up  _ in an  _ Enchanted Forest _ ! There are two Merry Men in this group alone!” 

 

“Yes, but can they defend against supernatural threats?” Regina shakes her head, regretful. “Imagine how you’d feel if you woke up tomorrow morning and found that an ogre dropped through a portal and attacked the camp and Zelena was too distracted by her own reflection to save anyone. Poor Marian. Poor Belle. Poor Merlin.”

 

“I did not sign up for another forest outing,” Tamara says from where she’s seated on a log near them, a sleeping bag in her arms. 

 

Regina twists around. “Oh, was that one time you kidnapped my son enough for you?” she inquires pleasantly. Tamara smiles back tightly.

 

“Sparks are flying here, huh?” Marian comments, winking at Emma. Emma eyeballs Tamara with renewed misgiving. “You can’t teleport out of here. Merlin just tried. Zelena must have done something to the perimeter to block your magic.” She puts her hands on her hips and looks around. “We could use something to eat.”

 

“We should go hunting,” Merida offers at once. She’s the only one who looks pleased at this development. “Zelena’s better at this than I thought. I’ll find a partner in no time.” She takes off, away from the clearing, and Emma thinks first about Regina’s fictional ogre and second about that time that she’d kidnapped Merida and chained her to the back of the Bug.

 

“Yeah, let’s go. I didn’t bring my gun or anything,” she remembers, sighing at her own idiocy at dressing for a Zelena event as though it’s an ordinary occasion. “But I can… I don’t know, wrestle a moose for you.” 

 

Regina’s eyes light up. “Oh, I’m  _ definitely  _ coming for that.” She follows them nimbly, a hand brushing Emma’s as they move. “You know, as far as these things go, this isn’t a bad idea. Everyone  _ has _ to get to know each other, a little forced intimacy…” 

 

“None of that sounds like a good idea.”  

 

“So grumpy.” Regina pats her arm. “You don’t know, maybe you’ll fall desperately in love with Merida on this outing and it’ll all be worth it. I know you find terrible hair attractive–” Both Merida and Emma turn to glare at her. Regina smirks, sliding a hand through her own pretty amazing hair, and says, “Don’t worry, you’re still beautiful.” 

 

It starts out playful and ends a little soft, which is why Emma had avoided using the word earlier. There’s a frightening sincerity to  _ beautiful _ , and there’s already too much frightening sincerity in their friendship to throw that into the ring. As it is, she can feel warmth blossoming in her belly and dangerously close to her heart.

 

“Thank you,” Merida says, “But I’d prefer to focus on that rabbit.” She unslings her bow, pulling it back and squinting, and the arrow flies with precision just as the rabbit hops away. “Dammit!” She draws her bow again, sighing heavily. “I’m out of practice. I need someone to work with–” 

 

An arrow flies past all of them and impales itself in the rabbit mid-jump. “We’re going to need a dozen of those to feed everyone,” Marian says, striding past them and putting her makeshift bow away. Merida cocks her head, watching Marian breathlessly as though she’s finally found her One True Sparring Partner, and Marian gives her a vaguely confused smile.

 

Regina says, “See? It works. I used to organize team building exercises just like this with my personal guard.” A fond smile spreads across her face. “It was a bit more  _ Lord of the Flies  _ than Gilligan’s Island, though.” 

 

Marian and Merida are moving on from their spot with their new catch, and Emma leans against a tree, unwilling to go hunt more bunnies just yet. Not that she’s squeamish. “Did you go with them?” 

 

“I would drop in, make sure there were no signs of unrest.” Regina makes a face. “I’ve only ever been camping once, and it was one of the most miserable experiences of my life. I didn’t mind the woods,” she clarifies. “But the  _ company _ – they were terrible. Self-righteous. Two of them couldn’t keep their hands off each other. The others were just as bad. Whiny, entitled, pompous…” 

 

“Sounds like a nightmare.” 

 

Regina nods sagely. “It  _ was _ .” She ticks them off on her fingers. “And don’t get me started on Peter Pan.” 

 

_ Oh.  _ Emma scowls. “I was not whiny. Or entitled! Or pompous. I was trying to get our son back.” 

 

“You can be all those things at once,” Regina says easily. She takes a step back, giving Emma a once-over before she pulls out her phone. “Stand still,” she says. “I promised Henry snaps from tonight.” 

 

Emma obliges, managing a wide smile for their son. “You have service out here?” Her phone usually becomes completely unusable a half mile into the woods, and this seems deeper than that. Not that they have much of an idea where they are. For all they know, Zelena’s done some of her usual magic and they’re in her basement, walking in circles.

 

“Not really,” Regina says, brow furrowing. “How…I have  _ WiFi _ ,” she says suddenly. “How do I have…?” Emma joins her at her phone now to scroll to her settings for her, finding a list of available WiFi networks that she can pair with. 

 

There’s only one.  _ Storybrooke Singles – mobile _ . “How does Zelena have a network out here? Where  _ is  _ Zelena?” Emma wonders, and Regina starts forward with determination, heading back through the clearing where the others are and onward to where Zelena, Mulan, and Robyn had vanished.

 

“Where are you going?” Tamara calls, getting up to follow them. 

 

“Zelena,” Emma manages, and a few others trail behind her. 

 

It’s all twelve of them moving through the woods by the time they make it through the underbrush toward the next clearing. “Never trust Zelena too much,” Belle says ruefully. “Whatever she’s doing out here, it might be about the agency, or it might be about world domination. No one ever knows.” 

 

Cruella perks up. “World domination, you said? I’ve been looking for someone to help me with a little problem I’ve got–”

 

“No one’s going to help you kill people,” Ursula cuts in, scowling at Cruella. “Or get your boyfriend back.”

 

Cruella sniffs. “Is that what this is about? Come now, darling, you can’t possibly still be angry about that. It was the Underworld! I was dead! What was I supposed to do, wait for you?” 

 

“Yes!” Ursula says furiously. “Of course you were!”

 

Cruella spreads her hands helplessly. “But you’re…immortal?” 

 

A tentacle snakes out from under Ursula’s dress and yanks Cruella’s foot, sending her crashing to the ground. “ _ Regardless _ ,” Ursula says, stalking onward. 

 

“I like her,” Tamara says under her breath. Cruella gives her a dark look from the ground. Emma chooses to ignore them all and hurries onward to catch up with Ursula and Regina, who are talking quietly to each other as they move ahead of the group.

 

“She’s up to  _ something _ ,” Regina is saying when Emma slides back into her place beside her. “I don’t think she’d have brought Robyn with her to  _ rough it _ . But I can’t imagine–” 

 

She stops. They all stop, because before the magic had been shut out of the area, Zelena had built a fucking  _ luxury tent _ in the middle of the woods. It’s huge, big enough for all of them, and lit by a generator that’s also powering a number of other machines, including a fridge. There’s an outer shaded area where Robyn is playing, and Mulan looks up from her laptop where she’s seated on a lounge chair and says, “Oh, none of you are allowed to come in here. Don’t you have some sleeping bags to share?” She looks positively amused by all of this, and Emma’s beginning to understand what it is she sees in a  _ sadistic asshole  _ like Zelena.

 

“You brought–  _ this _ ?” Gwen says, utterly betrayed. “And you’ve left us all in those woods?” 

 

Mulan shrugs. “I don’t make the rules. I told her you’d be–  _ Robyn _ ,” she sighs, getting up as Robyn toddles toward the woods. “Your mother will be right back. She’s just checking on the grill.” 

 

“ _ Grill _ ,” Naveen echoes. “You have a grill?”

 

“We’ve been reduced to eating bunnies,” Emma says blankly. “And you’ve been…?” 

 

Mulan shrugs again, this time a little sympathetic. “I’ve got to run,” she says. “Go fall in love.” She jogs from the clearing after Robyn, who’s moving surprisingly fast for a two-year-old, and they’re alone again.

 

Regina turns to address the group, taking her rightful place as mayor. “You know what we have to do,” she says grimly. 

 

“Steal their WiFi?” Tamara suggests.

 

“Steal their fridge,” Naveen corrects her. 

 

“Take their beds,” Gwen says, sighing mournfully. 

 

“Oh, no,” Regina says, frowning at all of them. “That’s just a band-aid. You can feel a little better for a short while, or you can have  _ justice _ . Which will it be?” She looks like a kid in a candy store, which means only one thing when it comes to Regina Mills–

 

_ Fire.  _ “We have to burn it down,” she pronounces, and the group falls into uncertain silence.

 

“Burn– burn it down?” Belle echoes.

 

“Aren’t you the mayor or something?” Will asks dubiously.

 

But Tamara says, “I’m liking you more and more every minute,” and she shares a slow smile with Regina that Emma doesn’t like the look of at  _ all _ . “Let’s do it.” 

 

“Yes,” Ursula agrees, and it should probably be worrying that it’s all the villains who are teaming up with Regina, and even more worrying that Emma is hurrying to join them. She just doesn’t want to be left out, that’s all. It’s peer pressure or…something. Something like the way that Regina’s looking at the other women with renewed appreciation. “How are we going to start a fire at night here?” 

 

It’s Belle who, after a long pause, suggests checking inside the tent for matches, and it takes about thirty seconds of seeing the enormous, comfy beds inside the tent before even the most noble of the heroes is turned. “Set this whole place on fire,” Lancelot says sourly. “It’s an abomination. No camping tent should be this comfortable.” 

 

“Damn straight,” Regina agrees, and Marian and Merida find them just in time to suggest that  _ maybe _ , they can make some torches instead of attempting this with matchsticks.

 

“I thought you were being a supportive sister,” Emma says breathlessly to Regina, brandishing her torch at the tent’s third back room. There’s something to be said for swinging around a fiery torch out of sheer spite. Maybe Regina’s had the right idea all along. 

 

Regina shrugs. “Zelena promised me an entertaining evening. This is entertaining.” The tent is in flames, Ursula carefully spraying water on the perimeter whenever it looks as though it might go into the trees. (No one knows where the water is coming from. No one wants to know.) 

 

“She’s coming!” Will hisses from his lookout post, and they scatter back into the woods, heading for their clearing again at top speed. Emma’s dress is covered in soot and torn in several places, and it’s kind of worth it because Regina is laughing like sunshine itself and Emma can’t help but laugh with her.

 

They’re all gleeful as they hear Zelena’s shriek echoing through the woods, and it’s only after that that they stare at their sleeping bags and rabbits and realize something else entirely. “We’re idiots,” Tamara says. “They had a dozen beds in there.” 

 

“So much food,” Will says mournfully.

 

“Worth it,” Regina says, picking up a sleeping bag. The others look less than convinced. “I’m taking this one. We can draw straws who gets the bags and who sleeps on the ground,” she suggests, but the others are already shaking their heads. 

 

“They’re double sleeping bags,” Belle points out. “It’s just not logical to make half of us sleep on the ground when there’s space for everyone.” She looks around. “Let’s just…pair up, okay?” 

 

“I’ve got Regina,” Ursula says immediately. 

 

“I’ve got Regina!” Cruella shoots back, and they glare at each other with renewed fury as the others look around uneasily. Marian shrugs and climbs into one sleeping bag, Lancelot murmurs something to Guinevere that has her nodding with a tentative smile and joining him, and Merida crouches beside Marian to slide into hers, their bows lying on the ground beside them. 

 

Ursula’s tentacles are out again and Cruella is speaking in a wheedling tone to Regina while watching the tentacles warily, and Emma decides it won’t be weird if she rescues Regina from  _ this _ . “Hey, do you want to share?” Will says from behind her. He looks a little hopeful about it, and Emma blinks at him, baffled at the invitation. “My ex is here and–” 

 

“Emma’s with me,” Regina says sharply, and she yanks on Emma’s hand from where she’s seated on her sleeping bag and tugs her onto it. She’s still glaring at Will when Emma manages to unzip the bag and slide inside, and Emma tugs her down before Zelena’s first singles event ends in homicide. 

 

Across the clearing, Cruella and Ursula are still fighting over Regina, and Emma wraps her arms around Regina and tugs her close before she looks around and notes that no one else is  _ snuggling _ . Fine. She lets Regina go. 

 

Regina lets out a little groan of protest and burrows back into her shoulder. “I think our sleeping bag is smaller than the others,” she says. 

 

There’s a swath of space on Emma’s other side, but Emma says, “Yeah,” and doesn’t roll over. “So,” she says, her tone a forced casual. “Meet anyone you liked today?”

 

“I’ve always been fond of Guinevere,” Regina says thoughtfully, and Emma’s jaw clenches just a little. “Of course, she and Lancelot are a done deal. Tamara is a lot more tolerable when she isn’t trying to torture the magic out of me.” Her tone is casual, just a hint of challenge in it. “How about you? Anyone you’re interested in?” 

 

“Not– not really. No one I’d have a chance with,” Emma says, sighing. “I don’t think Zelena’s going to have much luck with me. At least I had fun tonight.” 

 

“Much better than the last camping trip,” Regina agrees.

 

Emma peers at her for a moment. “You didn’t really find me terrible in Neverland, did you?” She’d thought– that had kind of been when they’d become friends. There had been quiet nights and long gazes that had meant something more than just  _ loathing _ , and Regina had been one of the few good things about Neverland.

 

Regina doesn’t answer for a long moment, and when she talks, her words are careful. “I used to look over at you sometimes at night when you were asleep and I’d  _ hate  _ you,” she admits in a low voice. Emma drops her arms, shifting back against the other end of the sleeping bag. “Everyone on that trip cared so much about you. You had all these people, and I…I don’t know,” she says, biting on her lip in a very un-Regina gesture. “I was determined not to be just another of them, no matter how much I–” She stops, rolling over to face away from Emma, the conversation over.

 

Emma isn’t willing to let it end. “The only way I ever slept in Neverland was by knowing you were around,” she says. Regina’s shoulders drift inward, just a bit, and Emma continues, emboldened by the knowledge that Regina’s listening. “I wasn’t…everyone around me might have said that they loved me, but they all just…they all wanted so  _ much  _ of me. And all I wanted was Henry.” 

 

“All I wanted was Henry, too,” Regina whispers, barely audible.

 

Emma watches her, every whisper and every breath and every tiny movement, and somehow, Zelena’s granted her the best singles event of her life, after all. “Every time I looked at you, I knew you were never going to lose Henry. And that was it. I didn’t believe in anything in Neverland but you.” 

 

“Emma,” Regina breathes, and Emma rolls over onto her back to stare up at the sky through the trees, doing her best not to catch any glimpse of what Cruella and Ursula are now doing against one of the trees. Zelena’s lifted the spell around their area of the woods, she can feel with the warmth of her magic waiting beneath the surface, and they could probably leave at any time and go back home. 

 

Instead, Regina’s arms slide around her. Her head is back to resting against Emma’s arm, and Emma puts a hand on Regina’s back and holds her close. 


	4. Chapter 4

“I can't believe you didn't tell me!” Mary Margaret is breathless with outrage as she hurries to match Emma’s stride, brandishing a phone. “I must have asked you a dozen times how Zelena’s event went and you insisted it was nothing special, even after Zelena tried filing those arson charges–”

 

“You can't write up a police report about the destruction of something you magicked into being,” Emma says stubbornly. Zelena had stolen her lunch over that (“Everything in this town is magicked into being,” she’d said scornfully), but at least Emma had thought she’d kept that report from ever being seen by David– and by extension, Mary Margaret. 

 

She’d been wrong, clearly. “–But you didn't tell me about  _ this _ !” Mary Margaret waves her phone again, too quickly for Emma to spot whatever damning thing she’d found on it. “Am I not your mother? Did I not selflessly invite you into my home twenty-eight years late and raise you from a sullen, emotionally stunted twenty-something into a sullen, emotionally stunted thirty-something? Does our relationship mean nothing to– hey!” Emma’s managed to grab her phone at last. 

 

She stares down at the screen, and her stomach flips in a way that's only partially motivated by horror. “Where– where did you get this?”

 

Mary Margaret looks suddenly trapped, and Emma’s brow furrows at it. “Storybrooke Singles’ Facebook page,” Mary Margaret says finally. “Zelena’s a surprisingly good businesswoman. I know I’m kind of wishing I were single after seeing what I missed–” Another accusing glare– “That you didn't tell me about.” 

 

“There’s nothing to tell,” Emma says absently, staring down at the picture that is now Mary Margaret’s phone background. They're curled up together in the sleeping bag in the photo, Regina tucked into Emma’s front and Emma’s lips against the top of Regina’s head. They're fast asleep, which means that first, Zelena is  _ incredibly creepy _ , and second, this picture is doctored. There's no way Emma would have slept through  _ this _ . “It's not like it's the first time Regina and I have slept togeth–” Mary Margaret’s eyes look as though they may pop out of their sockets. “ _ Have slept in the vicinity of each other _ ,” Emma amends. It’s a miracle when they  _ do  _ make it off the couch when they do late night drinks. 

 

But this is...different, somehow. 

 

She’s still staring at the picture when they reach the station, and she leaves Mary Margaret behind without a goodbye, thoroughly distracted. 

 

* * *

 

_ Mary Margaret wants her phone back,  _ David texts her later that day, and Emma picks up the phone she’d left on her desk and then puts it down again.

 

She’s missing something. There had been something about Mary Margaret’s shifty eyes when Emma had asked where the picture was from– and it  _ is  _ up on Zelena’s Facebook page, so why would Mary Margaret have to prevaricate? Someone’s hiding something that she isn’t going to like, and she’s going to find out what it is.

 

Maybe Mary Margaret had been in the woods and snapped the pictures– but no, Neal had had a stomach bug that night and David had had a shift, so Mary Margaret couldn’t have left home. Unless she’d decided that Emma’s romantic life is more important than hovering over her sick son, which is fifty-fifty, probably. 

 

Emma opens Mary Margaret’s camera roll and squints at the picture again. If Mary Margaret had taken it, she’d have a collection of all the photos on Zelena’s Facebook page. So odds are low that–

 

–is that text in the corner of the picture? It hadn’t been visible on the picture as the phone background. She zooms into the corner with her fingers, her eyes narrowing in confusion when she can finally make out the text.

 

It’s a watermark that reads  _ /r/storybrookeships _ , and Emma stares at it for a long moment before she says, “Hey, Mulan? Is there a town subreddit I don’t know about?”

 

Mulan comes to peer over her shoulder and grimaces. “Don’t go there, Emma.”

 

“But–” 

 

“ _ Don’t _ . You’ll thank me later.” Mulan snatches the phone from her. “It’s a vile hellpit, and it’ll make you start thinking… _ things _ . I had intrusive thoughts about Ruby for a week after I went on there last time. I couldn’t even be in the same room as her without–” She shakes her head abruptly. “There’s only space for one human disaster in this station.” 

 

Emma stares at her, offended. “Tell me you’re talking about David.” Mulan gives her a long look. “I took on that gossip blogger who was stalking us last year, didn’t I? I can handle some subreddit!”

 

“I’m going out to lunch,” Mulan decides grimly.

 

Once she’s gone, Emma settles down in front of her computer and heads straight to /r/storybrookeships–  _ the go-to place for speculation, sightings, and happily ever afters! _ , as the header reads. It’s…another gossip blog, maybe? The first post is titled  _ Pictures from the Storybrooke Singles outing _ , which explains that, but Emma’s already scrolling down to gape at the titles of the next few posts.

 

There’s an understandable  _ What does Mulan see in Zelena, anyway? _ followed by the interest-piquing  _ saw Archie last week looking cozy with August…  _ and finally–

 

– _ best relationship for the mayor? _

 

“No  _ way _ ,” Emma breathes, clicking on the post without a moment of second-guessing. It has a few dozen comments, and her brow furrows at the first response.  _ Maleficent is the obvious pick, and I don’t know how they aren’t dating already… _

 

_ …sorry, but she and Marian are way too tight not to be hooking up on the sly, but sure, go with the boring choice… _

 

_ …you both couldn’t be more wrong if I smacked you over the head with the PHOTOGRAPH OF SNOW WHITE ON HER DESK– _

 

Oh, that’s  _ enough _ . Emma’s making an account before she can reconsider it or perhaps attempt to think at all, and she types furiously, outraged.  _ The sheriff is also in that picture! If anything, she’s the one Regina would be–  _ She pauses and then deletes the last few words.  _ If anything, that makes it pretty obvious that it’s just a family photo _ , she posts, scowling at the screen. 

 

She can’t resist a parting shot–  _ Regina obviously prefers Emma or she wouldn’t be LIVING with her, so… _ – and then she sits back, satisfied.

 

Her phone– no, Mary Margaret’s– buzzes a minute later with a notification from Snapchat.  _ From Regina _ . Emma opens it with a second glare at her computer screen. It’s a photo of Neal at Regina’s desk, his little brow furrowed as he colors on what looks like a requisition from the new Storybrooke Magic Watchdog nonprofit with thick black crayon. Emma takes a snap of herself with a thumbs-up in response, and only then does she see the brand new little flame emoji beside Mary Margaret’s name,  _ too _ .

 

_ For fuck’s sake _ . Emma pulls out her own phone, lifting an eyebrow in her snap and then doing it a dozen more times until she’s sure she’s mastered the fine line between amused and challenging, and she captions the picture  _ no way are you streaking with everyone but me _ . 

 

Regina responds with a picture of herself doing a far superior version of the exact look that Emma had been struggling to attain, and the rather pointed caption of  _ I’d thought you’d had enough streaking with me _ . 

 

_ I hate you _ , Emma writes back, and she’s grimacing and grinning at her phone until her Reddit inbox flashes a new message.  **_From MT196 via /r/storybrookeships_ ** _ (1 minute ago): Oh, please. Sheriff Swan is cute, but there’s no depth there. The whole core of this very town is about the Snow White/Evil Queen relationship. That’s the kind of epic love story that can only end in one place– with the two of them finally recognizing their true feelings and embracing them _ .

 

There’s another message by the time she’s finished reading the first.  _ Besides, isn’t Sheriff Swan a homophobe? _

 

Emma ignores  _ that  _ and types furiously.  _ First of all, ew. Second of all, Snow White is deeply in love with her husband. Third of all, how is that more epic than the Evil Queen and the savior who share a kid together??,  _ she demands, outraged on principle. It’s not like she wants to be the only one named on this thread, but she wouldn’t mind at least having a  _ presence _ there.

 

Her newfound nemesis is unconvinced.  _ I guess that’s okay if you like a cliche. I don’t think the queen is nearly so dull as to buy it, though. _

 

Another response comes through before Emma can begin a reply to that.  _ And lmfao, don’t tell me Snow wouldn’t ditch the husband if Regina ever beckoned her way _ . Emma blinks at that, which she has no response to, and a new comment arrives from a different poster.  _ I could get behind Swan and the queen if Swan weren’t way out of her league. She’s the savior. Show some respect _ , which is somehow even more infuriating than MT196 response.

 

Emma tackled the second comment first.  _ Like hell she’s out of her league. Swan would only be so lucky. _ She remembers, a moment too late, that she is in fact said Swan, but she stands by her post defiantly.  _ Regina’s out of HER league, actually _ .

 

MT196 is back again with that comment.  _ Listen, I don’t think anyone out there believes that Regina looks at the sheriff as anything more than a friend. There’s no tension there, not like years of murder attempts and curses and hatred. Get on my level. Snow and Regina actually fought for their love. What did Sheriff Swan do? Have a baby? _

 

Mulan reenters the station, a paper bag in hand. “I got you a grilled cheese,” she says, “And Z wants you to head over to the agency.” She cocks her head. “You okay?” 

 

Emma is still staring, livid, at her screen. “I need some air,” she says, and she squeezes her computer mouse so hard that it begins to spark with restrained magic.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, are you finally done sulking about your lunch?” Zelena says scornfully when she stalks in. “I sent out six notifications on my app about this check-in!” 

 

“I never installed the app,” Emma says, shrugging sullenly. MT196 had replied to her last comment with a dozen  _ instances _ that they insist prove that Regina and Mary Margaret are secretly in love, and she’d only just restrained herself from responding snidely on her phone. None of them are at all convincing, anyway. Except maybe a few of Mary Margaret’s noted expressions, but that’s just…Mary Margaret around Regina being Mary Margaret around Regina, anyway. “And that lunch was police property. I could have you arrested.” 

 

“Yes, yes. You need to fill out the post-date survey first,” Zelena says, impatient. “I’ve already arranged several dates from them.” She lays out yet another clipboard in front of Emma. “Here. Every person on that group date has a page here. You’re rating them on a scale of one to ten on four factors: attractiveness, personality, conversation, and of course, dateability. I’ll work from there.” 

 

Emma stares at the first page blankly. Zelena says, “I’m trying to  _ help _ you, if you’d just let me–” 

 

“Fine. Sure.” Emma frowns at the survey. There’s a comment box next to each rating as well, and she writes halfhearted excuses in Belle’s for why she doesn’t feel comfortable  _ rating _ a friend while Zelena hovers over her in disapproval and jabs a finger at the numbers until Emma sighs and gives Belle a seven in attractiveness. “I’m not  _ dating  _ her,” she protests. “Tell me these numbers are confidential.”

 

“Oh, they’ll never know who gave them their ratings.” Zelena smiles, wide and close-lipped. “They’re necessary for a little tough love sometimes. I already had to have a chat with Will about why every single person who filled one out rated him as a below-five on conversation.” She makes a face and shudders. “And I don’t ever want to have the personality talk with Cruella again.” 

 

“I’m sure you handled it with your typical tact,” Emma says, giving Cruella a three for personality. This is getting easier when it comes to those she doesn’t know well, though she hesitates on Marian for a moment.

 

“She’d be so hurt if she knew you gave her only a four on dateability,” Zelena says, shaking her head.

 

Emma chews her lip irritably. “She’s my  _ friend _ . It’s weird.” And she may still be feeling a tiny bit petty that Reddit seems to think that Marian is better dating material for Regina than Emma is. She switches it to a seven, feeling guilty about it.

 

“That’s more like it,” Zelena says. “Shame she left yours blank.” 

 

Emma’s head jerks up. “ _ What _ ?” 

 

Zelena waves a hand. “Go on, finish it up. We’ll talk about this when you’re done.” 

 

“Talk about…am  _ I  _ getting a tough love talk?” Emma demands, offended. She might not have been the star of the event, but she’d thought she’d at least been  _ fun _ . They’d burned stuff together and everything. “Which one?” 

 

“We’ll talk about it later,” Zelena repeats. 

 

“ _ Which. One _ .”

 

“ _ Finish _ ,” Zelena orders, and Emma circles numbers for the next seven people with her teeth grinding together and her hand clenched around her pen. “You gave Regina a ten on attractiveness, personality, and conversation,” Zelena observes with deep disapproval. “Your  _ only  _ tens.” 

 

“Yeah? So?”

 

“And a  _ zero  _ on dateability.” Emma bobs her head, her teeth still clenched together. Zelena closes her eyes. “This is a curse. This is my punishment for never going through with the actual redemption bollocks. I deserve this.” She turns her glare onto Emma. “And you deserve your combined total of  _ ten _ dateability points.” 

 

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Emma says, puzzled.

 

“There were fourteen respondents, Emma.”

 

Emma’s brow wrinkles. “Wait. What did Regina give me?” she demands, suddenly desperate to know. Not that there’s any  _ point  _ to this, they’re  _ friends _ and if they’d ever– well, they would have already. If it were going to happen. It isn’t. 

 

Zelena just rolls her eyes. “I’m not wasting my time with you if every person in this town looks at you and thinks you’re undateable,” she says, smoothly changing the subject– or not changing the subject at all. “I could raise the dead and they’ll still think you’re too taken to see anyone. And what use is  _ that  _ to our endgame?” 

 

“Endgame?” Emma repeats, a little dizzy at the abrupt shift. “What… _ endgame _ do you mean?” 

 

Zelena heaves a sigh. “Never mind that,” she says briskly. “Now, I have no choice. The only way to make you dateable is to have you  _ dating _ . Get out of here,” she orders Emma. “I have work to do. Your first date will pick you up tomorrow evening at seven.” 

 

“Who–” 

 

“ _ Go _ .” Emma goes. She pauses in the street to squint at the Reddit subthread on her phone, where an enthusiastic poster named BluebirdSnow has taken up her cause.  _ Didn’t you see that sleeping bag photo? Emma and Regina are absolutely meant to be, once they get their heads out of their asses. Regina and Snow have a true connection, I’ll give you that, and they’re the best of friends. The closest, really! But even Snow White would probably tell you she’s rooting for Emma. Not that I have any connection to Snow White, of course. This is all just conjecture from an absolute stranger. What do I know? _

 

“Thanks, Mom,” Emma mutters at the screen. 

 

Another poster has responded with  _ I mean, sure, they’d be a cute couple, but do you think they’ll ever get past the Snapchat thing?  _ and Emma glowers at her phone and then stomps back to the station. 

 

It’s been a crappy, crappy day.

 

* * *

 

By evening, she’s curled up on the couch in Regina’s study, watching the comment thread on Reddit with half an eye as Regina talks to her mother. “It demystifies the Evil Queen,” she’s complaining. “I can’t have this reputation as Snow White’s  _ babysitter _ , no matter how flexible my hours are. Aurora asked me my  _ rates _ today!” 

 

Emma only hears the tone of Mary Margaret’s voice, sympathetic and amused over the phone. Regina is scowling when she’s done. “I do  _ not  _ have a magic touch– well, I  _ do _ , but not–” She’s cut off by Mary Margaret again. “I can conquer Storybrooke’s next generation just fine without starting a daycare in my office,” Regina says in response. Emma grins and leans back against the couch to watch Regina’s face shift from frustration to resignation, ignoring her housemate’s warning glare.

 

They seem to reach some sort of consensus after a few minutes, though it sounds mostly like Regina has lost miserably and hasn’t noticed yet, and then Mary Margaret is speaking again and Regina’s face darkens. “They  _ what _ ?” she says, typing busily on her laptop. “ _ Why _ .”

 

More words Emma can’t hear, and she waits patiently as Regina bites out, “It’s absolute idiocy. I don’t give a damn what they have to say about–  _ you?  _ They said  _ you _ ?” 

 

Mary Margaret is laughing, and Emma, with a suddenly sinking heart, knows exactly what it is that she’s talking about. “It couldn’t have been Marian?” Regina demands. A moment, and then a mollified, “Oh,” before she returns to outrage. “This is a travesty. I have to go.” 

 

She sets down the phone, rises, and circles her desk to face Emma. “Emma,” she says, her voice like steel, “There are people on the Internet who think that your mother and I should date. We have to kill them.” 

 

The newest entry to the comments thread is  _ Regina and Snow share a child together. Didn’t Regina basically adopt Emma and bring her into her house? You can’t get any closer than being co-moms.  _ Emma closes her laptop and says, “Yes. Yes, we do.” 

 

* * *

 

“Sidney is the one who started that subreddit,” Regina says when they’re bundled into the Bug, ready to investigate. It’s been a quiet few months, and they haven’t had a good stakeout since that blue fish demon who’d nearly succeeded in conquering Storybrooke before she’d forgotten her own agenda. “We talked about him having an outlet for all that gossip when we first...worked out our differences.”  _ Worked out their differences _ . Emma remembers a lot of shouting, a single pronouncement of eternal love, a transformation into an enormous mirror, and finally, with Aladdin’s patient mediation, grudging acknowledgments that the past belongs in the past. 

 

_ Grudging  _ sounds about right, though. “He started this,” Regina says darkly. “He must have. It’s the perfect revenge.” 

 

“You two are supposed to be past revenge,” Emma reminds her. “I think Sidney actually has a boyfriend now. He’s grown as a person.” 

 

Regina, who has also grown as a person, snorts and mutters, “I should have left him in that mirror.” They park outside the  _ Daily Mirror _ building, watching the single light still on in the editor’s office. “At least some people on that thread had  _ reasonable  _ ideas. Guinevere  _ is  _ someone I’ve always wanted to get to know better. And I can’t deny that I did have impressive chemistry with myself when I was split in two.” 

 

Emma tries, she really does, but she can’t stop herself from sputtering, “ _ That’s  _ who you think is dateable from that thread? Gwen and  _ yourself _ ?  _ That’s _ who you choose?” 

 

“Well, Mal and Marian are good choices, too,” Regina says easily. “I think Archie would evoke some ethical complications, and David is pretty, but there’s no substance there.” She contemplates the list again, squinting down at her phone as she scrolls. “Why? Was there someone else?” 

 

Emma bites hard on her lip, enough that she can feel it starting to bleed, and only then does she see the telltale curve of a smile twitching at Regina’s lips. “ _ Regina _ ,” she says, pained. 

 

Regina opens Snapchat again instead of answering. “Here,” she says, flipping the screen and pointing it at Emma. “Your truest form.” 

 

“If that’s the cat lady filter…” She gets Regina’s snap and opens it. It’s her, barely visible in the dark, with puppy ears and nose. “Oh,” she says, mollified. “That’s better. I guess.” 

 

When she looks up again, Regina is smiling at her, head tilted and eyes warm. “You know, I gave you a ten on dateability,” she says. Emma stares at her. “We all filled out the rating sheets together. I  _ may _ have intimidated everyone else into leaving yours blank. Accidentally,” she says swiftly.

 

“You think I’m dateable?” Emma says. Her voice is hoarse, a little too high, and she swallows and tries again. “You think–” 

 

“I think you should have dates lining up at your door,” Regina says, and _oh_ , this is just Regina being a supportive friend. Not that Emma had read anything more into it. Nope. “I think anyone in all of Storybrooke would be extraordinarily fortunate to date you, and I don’t think I’d be satisfied that any of them would deserve you.” She reaches over to squeeze Emma’s hand, and Emma can’t stop the tremor that runs through her at that. They’re both leaning against the backs of their seats, under a foot apart, their eyes are locked together. Anything is possible in an instant, anything can happen next, and it’s as terrifying as toppling off a precipice with no safety net below.

 

“I think I can say that, as your other mother,” Regina says, her face breaking out into a smirk and Emma yanks her hand away, the moment broken.

 

“Fuck you,” she says, outraged, and Regina’s laughter echoes through the car, along with a mutter that’s definitely not  _ I’m trying _ –

 

“Wait,” Regina says suddenly, perking up. “Sidney’s leaving. Let’s go.” 

 

Emma rolls her car silently after him, the headlights switched off and Regina leaning forward as she watches Sidney’s car retreat. “There’s something so familiar about that username,” she says in the silence. “I just– the  _ 196 _ . Why does  _ 196 _ sound so familiar?” 

 

Regina shakes her head. “I don’t know. Could be a birthday? January 1996? We’re tracking down a child.” 

 

“Could be part of a phone number,” Emma says, chewing on her lip. “Or an–  _ address _ ,” she whispers in sudden revelation. Sidney is pulling up to his boyfriend’s workplace, and he exits his car and enters the auto repair shop with a  _ 196 Main Street  _ emblazoned across the top of it. “MT. Michael Tillman. Oh, my god, Ava’s  _ dad  _ wants you to date my mom.” 

 

Regina shakes her head in disbelief. “Sidney must be behind this. Why in the world would Michael Tillman care about my romantic life?” She moves to get out of the car, and Emma grabs her arm.

 

“It’s  _ not  _ Sidney,” she says, determined to avoid that war from starting up again. “Look.” She presses on MT196’s name on her phone browser. A few dozen comments pop up, and only half of them are in the StorybrookeShips subreddit. The rest are in  _ /r/daddit _ , excepting a stray  _ /r/XFiles _ non sequitur about Mulder’s ass. Emma frankly doesn’t want to know. “This is a guy who actually uses Reddit. No way he’d be giving out his info to Sidney to screw with you.” 

 

Regina scoffs. “There’s really only one way to take care of this without knowing for sure,” she says. “Do you trust me?” 

 

“Of course I–” Regina yanks the steering wheel from Emma just as Emma’s about to park–

 

–” _ Regina!” _

 

–sending them crashing into a lamppost. “ _ What the hell?”  _ Emma says, aghast and shaking just a little bit. Her eyes are wide and she’s breathing fast, and she staggers out of the car to see the damage, still dizzy from shock.

 

Two calming hands are laid on her shoulders, and she’s turned to face a still grimly determined Regina. “Breathe,” Regina says. “It’s all right.” 

 

“You just  _ destroyed my bumper _ !” Magic had better repair this, or she’s definitely not talking to Regina for at  _ least  _ a day,  _ god _ .

 

Regina smiles, the wickedly scheming smirk that makes Emma a little more wobbly-kneed, and okay, maybe she won’t talk to Regina for a few hours instead. “Good thing we’re right in front of an auto shop, then.” 

 

Oh.  _ Oh _ . “You’re an evil genius,” Emma says, slightly horrified. 

 

“ _ Reformed  _ evil genius,” Regina corrects her, and she slides an arm around Emma’s waist, sauntering forward to knock on the door to the auto shop. “Mr. Tillman,” she says when he comes to the door, Sidney lingering behind him. “Sidney.” 

 

“Mayor Mills,” Michael says, eyes flickering from Regina back to Emma. Regina still has a tight grip on Emma’s waist, and Emma rests her head against Regina’s shoulder. “What can I do for you?” 

 

“We’ve been in a bit of an accident,” Regina says regretfully. “Poor Emma is still shaken up by it.” She presses a kiss to Emma’s hair. It burns like a breathless revelation, and Emma lets her eyes drift shut. Regina tucks a stray hair behind Emma’s ear and cups her cheek tenderly. “I’ll look after you at home, darling,” she croons. “A long bath and a massage should do wonders.” Emma’s brain very nearly shuts off.

 

Sidney’s eyes are boring through them. Michael looks stymied. “We’re closed for the day, but I can take a look at it tomorrow,” he says. “Do you– can I give you a ride home?” 

 

“We’ll walk,” Emma manages. “It’s not far from here.” 

 

“Right. Sure,” Michael says, and he’s flustered, glancing from them to the computer behind his desk. “Send my regards to Henry.” 

 

“Of course,” Regina says easily, and she takes Emma’s hand as they turn, walking together from the auto shop back down Main Street. “And  _ that’s  _ how you win a war,” she murmurs, satisfied. “I can ‘find a spell’–” She uses her free hand to make air quotes– “And fix the Bug tomorrow morning before you’re even up.” 

 

Emma stares at her for a moment, awash in a mixture of awe and horror. Sometimes, it’s very difficult to believe that Regina is real. She finds, too often, that she’s can’t imagine a life where Regina isn’t anymore. “You crashed my car,” she says, still disbelieving. “To win an Internet squabble?” 

 

“To protect your honor,” Regina says primly, but she’s smiling widely, unable to keep up the facade in their moment of  _ absurd _ victory.

 

Still, though, Regina definitely owes her, and Emma’s grinning too as she says half-jokingly, “So, uh…is that long bath and massage still on the table?” 

 

“Play your cards right,  _ darling _ ,” Regina says invitingly, attempting an atrociously failed wink. Emma stares at her for a dumbstruck moment before she speeds up, tugging Regina with her, suddenly in a rush to get home.

 

They make it all the way to the porch when Emma thinks to check Reddit. “I’d put money on him deleting all his comments instead of admitting that he was wrong,” she says smugly, pulling her phone out of her pocket with the hand that isn’t still in Regina’s. “He’s so–” She freezes.

 

“Emma?” Regina says, brow furrowing as she leans over to see Emma’s phone screen.

 

She’d missed a call from Zelena, and Zelena had texted instead.  _ You have a date tomorrow at seven. Dress nicely and be on time. You’re going to be the most eligible single mom ex-con in this town by the time I’m done with you. _

 

“Oh,” Regina murmurs, and her hand falls out of Emma’s as they stare at the text message in sudden silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your wonderful feedback and commentary! Y'all are amazing, I can't imagine I'd ever manage to write this much without you. <3 I'm taking a week off from this fic to work on a little [Swan Queen Week](http://swanqueenweek.tumblr.com/post/162259864789/sqw-9-teammom) oneshot and because Bailey's going to kick my ass if I don't write more of my Supernova fic, but I'll be back asap for Emma's date(s)! I have big plans ahead. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Tiana’s Palace is the nicest restaurant in town, and Emma is gratified to discover that her date will be there when she presses Zelena for more information. “I did consider leaving you both in the asylum and letting you find your way out,” Zelena had said, eyebrows raised. “You’re very fortunate that Mulan talked me out of it.” 

 

“That sounds about as fun as a blind date,” Regina had muttered, but she’s the picture of supportiveness now, fixing Emma’s makeup in the foyer while they wait for her date to arrive. Emma doesn’t even know a  _ name _ , and she paces when Regina lets go of her chin, staring at her watch with deep foreboding. 

 

“I saw a  _ gargoyle  _ at the agency when I was there earlier,” she says, shaking her head. “And at least three dwarves entered and left the agency throughout the day.”

 

Regina tilts her head. “Emma, do you have someone monitoring the comings and goings there?” 

 

“No! Maybe? I’m just…making sure that your sister doesn’t accidentally curse the whole town to set up some terrible romance. You know how she gets.” She kicks the bottom stair with her shoe. “This whole date is a disaster. I’d much rather be at home with you,” she says, peeking at Regina through her eyelashes.

 

Regina gives her an enigmatic smile. “You wouldn’t be, actually. I have a date.” 

 

Emma’s stomach bottoms out, just like that. “You  _ what _ ?” 

 

“With my one true love,” Regina says, and  _ no _ , that smile isn’t enigmatic, it’s  _ evil _ . “Your mother.” 

 

Emma holds up a finger when Regina finishes laughing. “Do not.” 

 

“She insists on a playdate once a week. I’ve negotiated her up to once a month. Mostly we chat about you.” Emma stares at her, suddenly very wary. Regina says, her voice conspiratorial, “Last month, she begged me to make an honest woman of you. Apparently, we’re living in sin.” 

 

“Sin,” Emma repeats. Her voice is getting a bit breathless. It must be from the pacing. She sits on the stairs instead, leaning back against the heels of her hands. “I’m sure you told her that there was absolutely no…sinning.” 

 

“I told her that I have a dungeon in the basement and make you wear a collar under your turtlenecks,” Regina says, still smiling. 

 

Well, at least that explains  _ that _ . Somehow, her shirt tag had been hanging out every single time she’d seen Mary Margaret for days a few weeks ago– or so Mary Margaret had insisted, looking very somber about it. Mary Margaret is only good at figuring out when Regina’s kidding maybe fifty percent of the time. 

 

And this is obviously a joke. “Please,” Emma scoffs, and she’s proud to note that her cheeks are only slightly flushed past the heavy coating of makeup. “As if  _ I’d  _ be the one wearing the collar in this relationship.”

 

Regina raises her eyebrows, her tongue swiping her lips in a calculated move. “Isn’t that interesting?” she breathes, stalking toward Emma, and Emma holds her breath as Regina cups her chin, her thumb swiping along Emma’s lips and pressing to them. “Too much lipstick,” she murmurs as explanation, her finger tracing Emma’s lips again. Emma sits, lips slightly parted and heart thudding against her ribs, and Regina leans in a little closer to see better. 

 

Her breath is warm against Emma’s cheek, and she pulls away, satisfied. “Very nice. Now all I have to do is–” She wriggles her fingers along the curve of her neck, leaving a little blotch of pink against light brown skin. “I do like to keep Snow on her toes,” she says cheerfully. 

 

“That ought to do it,” Emma says, her eyes glued to the blotch with what had better not look like hunger. “Where are you two going tonight? Aesop’s Tables has a Thursday special that–” The doorbell rings, cutting Emma off. 

 

“Oh, we probably won’t go there,” Regina says casually, and she waves a hand and disappears in a cloud of purple smoke before Emma can ask anything more. 

 

Emma stands, walking to the door with trepidation. She doesn’t hear any loud, stonelike clomping, which is promising, considering the gargoyle. She peers out the living room window first. There’s an odd-looking car she doesn’t recognize parked in the street– no.  _ No _ . Is that a  _ hearse _ ? No, that’s ridiculous. There’s no way–

 

She steels herself and opens the door. 

 

The man loitering on the porch gives her an awkward, nervous smile. “Hi, Sheriff,” he says. “I’m Nuka.” He’s a bit younger than her, with a scraggly mohawk that doesn’t end at his neck and seems to go into his shirt. She vaguely remembers him. His younger brother, Kovu, is one of the few former royals who’d actually made something of himself instead whining around town about peasants and spending more money than an uncursed Storybrooke generates for them.

 

Nuka, if she recalls, is not one of said royals. She gives him a cautious, friendly smile. “You can just call me Emma. I don’t have a gun strapped to my thigh,” she jokes. 

 

Nuka says, “Can I see?” She stares at him. He waits, expectant. 

 

“No!” she says finally, disbelieving. 

 

Nuka looks disappointed, which she’s pretty sure is about the gun and not her thigh. “Uh. Okay. It’s just that we’re getting a ride to the restaurant, and for safety’s sake–” 

 

“There’s no gun,” Emma says firmly, and she glances over at the suspiciously long car. Yep, there’s definitely someone in the driver’s seat whom she’d missed in her quick glance out the window. “Is that– that isn’t a  _ hearse _ , is it?” 

 

“Don’t worry about that,” Nuka says, shrugging as though it’s perfectly normal that he’s arrived in a hearse. “Mother has some trouble letting go. Dr. Hopper said it was perfectly healthy.” He considers for a moment. “Well, he said it eventually. Mother can be very persuasive.” 

 

She follows Nuka to the car, already mentally drafting a strongly worded text that Zelena will ignore, and the woman in the driver’s seat gets out. “This is my mom,” Nuka introduces them. “Mother, this is Sheriff Swan.” The woman does not turn to look at Emma. Her eyes are still golden and slitted like a lion’s, and Emma suddenly wishes desperately that she  _ had  _ brought along a gun.

 

She takes the back seat of the car, glancing surreptitiously through the divider to see if there’s a casket in the back. It’s tinted too dark to tell for sure, until Nuka’s mother drives forward abruptly and there’s a loud  _ clang _ from behind them. “I think the casket’s open,” Emma says.

 

Nuka’s mother says, “I like him to get some air.” The casket clangs again as they swerve around a corner. “Dr. Hopper has said that it’s perfectly healthy.” She smiles a terrifying sort of smile into the rearview mirror.

 

Nuka smiles encouragingly at Emma. “It’s all right, Sheriff. Don’t you have all those still-beating hearts in your house?”

 

“Now  _ that’s  _ unhealthy,” Nuka’s mother notes.

 

“Those aren’t in the  _ house _ ,” Emma protests. “And they’re not–” The two very catlike humans both turn to stare at her, eyes unblinking. “Eyes on the road, please,” she says meekly, hoping very hard that their chauffeur won’t be joining them on the actual date.

 

* * *

 

Nuka’s mother does, in fact, enter Tiana’s with them before the maître d’ spots her and walks her out, muttering something that sounds like  _ blacklisted for life _ , right in front of a bustling crowd of people. “This place is pretty crowded tonight,” Emma calls over the noise. “I’ve never seen this many people here–” 

 

“It’s a popular restaurant,” the maître d’ says, sounding offended. “The best restaurant in town. Haven’t you read the Zazu Guide entry?” 

 

“I just meant that it’s a small town,” Emma says swiftly, suddenly concerned that she’s one step away from being escorted out as well. “Is  _ everyone  _ having a date night tonight? Do we have reservations?” Nuka just shrugs. “Are there any seats available? Tiana and I are friends.” She’s spared Tiana at least a dozen break-ins by hungry frog people. They keep jumping through portals and keep attempting to mob Tiana, for unfathomable reasons. Maybe they’ve seen the movie and are very confused.

 

“We just gave away our last table to a party of two,” the maître d’ says apologetically. “We could squeeze you two in there, but it’d be crowded–” 

 

“Oh, we don’t mind,” Regina says brightly from the edge of the seating area, Mary Margaret standing beside her. “It’ll be fun!” Emma gapes at them, somewhere between relieved and humiliated.

 

And suspicious. Very, very suspicious. “What a coincidence,” she mutters to her mother– definitely the weakest link– as they’re shown to their table. “Where do you usually go for your monthly dates?” 

 

“Monthly dates?” Mary Margaret repeats, sounding puzzled. 

 

Regina is first behind the waiter who leads them in, stalking around Nuka to eye the small, square table. “You and Emma  _ must  _ sit across from each other,” she says adamantly. “I won’t let you lose your first date ambiance. Snow and I will be fine on the other ends, won’t we, dear?” 

 

Mary Margaret nods, a little too enthusiastically. Emma begins an internal litany of all the ways that tonight has gone wrong, beginning with the moment she was forcibly ejected from her mother’s womb. 

 

And Nuka isn’t the worst date she’s ever had, even with his mother in the front seat and the restaurant so crowded that Emma can barely hear him. He pulls out her chair for her, which is a bit chauvinist but certainly better than attempting to murder her entire family and cart them off to hell, and he smiles nervously at her and calls her Sheriff the whole time, which she finds oddly reassuring. The wine probably helps, too. “I do some odd jobs around town,” he says when she asks him. “My sister– she’s the one who really runs the family business.” 

 

“Not your mom?” She remembers the Lion King movie very vaguely from that marathon they’d had a couple of years ago, when they’d decided that they  _ had  _ to watch every Disney movie under the sun for research purposes. Regina had worn a pair of pajamas that she’d stolen from Emma for the whole day, soft flannel and a soft smile and soft eyes, and Emma had paid more attention to the woman curled up beside her than she had the movies onscreen. Henry had picked all their roles in every movie– especially flattering when he’d decided that Emma had been the animal companion in six separate movies– but she and Regina had snagged the lead roles in the Lion King movies. That had been much too distracting to actually focus on the story. 

 

Still, there had been a thing about the mom. She’s pretty sure. But Nuka shakes his head. “No, of course not. My mother is elderly. She dotes upon her family,” he says it as though he’s reciting a mantra, and Regina snorts.

 

“I’m sorry,” she says, straight-faced. “Please continue your date. Snow and I will continue ours. Snow, dear, how are your children?” 

 

“Oh, Neal is wonderful,” Mary Margaret says enthusiastically. “He’s already learning his ABCs. You know, David didn’t know how to read his name until twelve.” 

 

“Well, it was a different time,” Regina offers, on her best behavior.

 

Emma drinks more wine, clears her throat, and says, “Nuka, what is your family business?” 

 

Mary Margaret says, “He also thought that the family sheep were his siblings until he turned six.” Emma chokes on her appetizer. Nuka looks concerned. Mary Margaret soldiers on. “And Emma! Emma is…” She heaves a sad sigh. “Well, you know.” 

 

Emma jerks her head to glare at them, opening her mouth to respond as Nuka says, “It’s a sort of Villains Anonymous program. We don’t really  _ rehabilitate  _ as much as we reminisce. You should come by sometime!” he offers. “I’ve heard you have a thing for villains.” His lips twist into what might have been an attempt at seduction, or a spasming cry for help. Emma isn’t certain.

 

“I do know,” Regina says, letting out a sigh of her own as she continues her conversation with Mary Margaret. “Did she tell you she’s on a blind date tonight? It’s going terribly.” Nuka swallows visibly. 

 

Mary Margaret shakes her head, pitying. “Sometimes I worry that Neal’s going to be the first of my children to have a successful relationship.” 

 

Emma stares at them. “Are you two seriously going to pretend like I’m not here for this whole dinner?” 

 

Regina responds only to Mary Margaret. “That’s not fair,” she says loyally. “Neal will be just as fucked up by his parents as Emma,” she says, less loyally.

 

Emma takes another sip of wine. “I think I need a– restroom,” she says, kicking Regina’s shin. “I’ll be right back.” 

 

Regina follows her to the bathroom, which is near a busy enough area that they get some stares when Emma yanks Regina into the bathroom with her. “What are you  _ doing _ ?” she demands in a whisper. “What happened to giving this guy a chance?” 

 

“Please,” Regina says scornfully. “You came with his mom and he’s already trying to hook you up with his buddies. He’s not worth your night.” 

 

Emma scowls at her. “Maybe not, but I don’t want to be the asshole here! I’m trying to  _ help  _ your sister, not give her agency a bad rep.” It’s a low blow, going after Regina’s questionable affection for her sister, but Regina rolls her eyes like she might be listening. 

 

“I don’t know why she won’t set you up with someone more your type. Like Grumpy,” she says cheerfully. “Or Dopey. Or Bashful or Hopeless–” 

 

“Hopeless isn’t a dwarf,” Emma says, narrowing her eyes at Regina, suspecting that she’s being mocked. “ _ Please _ . Behave.” She softens her voice, the accusation fading from it, and Regina softens just as quickly. 

 

“I’ll try,” she says grudgingly. “I didn’t  _ plan  _ this incredible opportunity to crash your date. Sometimes these things are just…fate.” She grins, and Emma feels her stomach churn at the mischief in Regina’s eyes. “You’re wasted on a blind date,” Regina says, her fingers grazing Emma’s bare shoulder and moving down to her arm. “Flushed with righteous anger is a good look on you.” Her hand reaches Emma’s hand and moves past it, settling on Emma’s hip.

 

“Asshole date crasher is a pretty good look on you, too,” Emma admits. Regina had changed into a dress of her own mid-teleport, a deep wine-colored dress that dips dangerously low in the front and has a slit mid-thigh that Emma hasn’t noticed until now. “You always dress like that for dinner with my mom?” 

 

“Only at Tiana’s. When you’re there,” Regina says. Her hand is still on Emma’s hip, and Emma can feel the touch through her dress. “We just wanted to see–” 

 

She’s cut off by a rapping at the door. “Hey! Hey!” It’s Tiana herself, sounding very annoyed. “You two had better not be doing anything unhygienic in there!” 

 

“It’s a  _ bathroom _ , Ms. Anura!” Regina shoots back, but she yanks open the door. Her fingers dig into Emma’s hip, and she glares at everyone who’s staring at them from outside the bathroom. “I’m going back to our table,” she says, head held high. Emma shrugs in apology to Tiana, trailing after Regina to where Nuka is sitting with Mary Margaret.

 

He looks considerably more uncomfortable than he had before they’d left, which is a feat. Mary Margaret is talking– “And I was  _ so  _ bloated in my third trimester that I thought Emma would come out toddler-sized,” she says, and Emma stares at them in horror and intervenes. 

 

“Hey! Looks like our food is finally here!” She reaches for the steak at the center of the table, passing it to Nuka. “This must be yours.” It’s so rare that it’s still bleeding on the outside, and it’s the first thing tonight that he looks excited about. “And here’s my chicken.” She takes Regina’s seat at the table instead of her own, and Regina sits down beside Mary Margaret with reluctance. “So tell me about your program. What else do you do aside from reminisce about the good old murdery days?” 

 

“There’s some organized crime, too,” Nuka says, eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “Maleficent spearheaded this great scheme to sell fairy dust to the peasants. It’s a hallucinogen–” He pauses, blinking at them. “Wait, Zelena promised me confidentiality clauses. That means for the mayor, too, right?” 

 

“Of course,” Regina says smoothly. “I would never do anything to interfere with Emma’s love life.” She puts a hand on Emma’s thigh under the table and squeezes it. Emma chokes on her wine. “Please, tell us more about your illegal drug operation.” 

 

“I knew you’d understand,” Nuka says, beaming at her as though he’s found an ally who doesn’t have a hand on his date’s thigh. “One villain to another.” 

 

“Whoa,” Emma objects, instantly on the defensive. “Regina hasn’t been a villain in years. You don’t get to claim her. She’s one of ours now.”

 

“A princess?” Nuka sounds genuinely puzzled. 

 

Regina says, “Over my _ dead body _ .” 

 

Mary Margaret looks offended. “You know, Regina, feminism isn’t just about rejecting the titles that once infantilized us. We have to reclaim them, too, and show women across the realms that it’s okay to be girly and befriend small forest creatures instead of just dragons! And marry men!” She sighs heavily. “I think I’m the only woman in this town who dates men. We’re a rare breed.” 

 

“The sheriff, too,” Nuka says helpfully. All three women stare blankly at him.

 

“I agree, Regina should definitely stop befriending dragons. Especially dragons who are apparently drug dealers now.” Emma throws a scowl at Regina, who responds by sliding her toes up Emma’s calf very casually. Emma finishes half her glass of wine in one gulp.

 

Aloud, Regina says, “Emma, you’ve been a villain, too, haven’t you?” 

 

Emma’s brow furrows. “Okay, that was barely long enough to be a Hot Topic phase. It doesn’t count as  _ evil _ –” 

 

“Are you saying that evil can’t be cute?” Regina says, sounding affronted.

 

“What? No,” Emma says, bewildered. “What? The last time I called you cute, you set fire to a pile of paperwork. I’m just saying that I’m–” 

 

“Oh, we get it,” Nuka says. His confidence seems to have grown since he’d been aligned with Regina. “You think you’re too good to be one of us. Or shop at Hot Topic!” 

 

“He’s right,” Regina says gravely. “You haven’t even considered relapsing or redemption. You place no value on your time as a villain. Don’t you respect us at all?” Her eyes are glittering with delight, because there’s nothing Regina likes more than absolutely fucking with everyone in her vicinity.

 

And Mary Margaret, who veers between absolutely zero self-awareness and deep amusement, chimes in. “You do seem kind of villain-ist, Emma. That’s very hurtful to those of us who’ve dabbled in our dark sides. Has your heart ever been black at  _ all _ ?” 

 

“I…don’t know?” Emma says warily. “I don’t really check up on it.”  (She knows Regina does occasional check-ins because she’d once accidentally walked into Regina’s bathroom right after her shower and been faced with 1) the rather alarming sight of Regina with her heart in her hand, and 2) the rather intriguing sight of Regina wearing nothing but a towel.

 

Regina had looked up, startled, and then said, “Does this look like grey or black to you?”

 

“What?” 

 

“I did soft block David on Twitter after he made that Valentine’s thread about Snow, but that’s more of a grey, isn’t it?” She squints at the heart again. “Here, look at this.” Emma had taken the heart, holding it up to inspect it and doing her best to ignore the sharp inhalation that touching it had elicited from Regina. 

 

They’d eventually determined that it had, in fact, been a speck of dust that had come off of Regina’s towel, and Emma had accidentally looked down Regina’s towel three times before she’d managed to escape the room. Heart color is serious business, apparently.)

 

“I don’t discriminate against villains,” Emma says, frustrated. “I like villains. Some might even say I… _ have a thing  _ for them.” Nuka grins. So does Mary Margaret. Regina sits in silence, her eyebrow quirked. “I’m not saying that I’m rooting for my son to suddenly switch over to the Dark Side, but I would definitely accept him and still love him if he did.”

 

“Like hell he would,” Regina says sharply. “Henry isn’t going  _ near _ –”

 

Emma gestures helplessly at her. “How come you’re allowed to say that and I’m not?” 

 

“The truth comes out!” Nuka pronounces triumphantly. 

 

Emma sighs, on the precipice of full-blown irritation. “Look. This is really… _ nice _ , but I wasn’t envisioning a double date with my mom and my…Regina tonight.” Regina tilts her head and smiles at her at that, sweet and affectionate, and Emma struggles for her resolve. “Why don’t we get the check and then get out of here? Get to know each other?” 

 

“I was thinking the same thing,” Nuka agrees. “We can drive around a little on the way out of here.”

 

“Right. Date with your mom instead. You know, I think we might have some common ground, after all.” 

 

Nuka is surprisingly eager to complain about his mother. “She favors Kovu even now, when he’s rejected  _ all of us _ and gone off with Simba’s crowd. Can you believe that? I’ve been here the whole time, loyal and without wandering off over some  _ girl _ , and she still treats me as though I’m her third choice. Fourth, even. And there are only three of us!” 

 

This they can bond on. “My mom basically replaced me with my little brother,” Emma informs him. “She left me in a wardrobe as an infant and then had him so she could do all the cute baby stuff with him.” 

 

“I can do the cute baby stuff with you, too,” Mary Margaret says, pouting. “You didn’t  _ want  _ me to buy your clothes or rock you to sleep.” Emma reaches for her wine again and Mary Margaret snatches it away. “At least I can limit your alcohol intake,” she says, sounding smug.

 

“My mother raised me and she  _ still  _ replaced me with my little brother,  _ so _ ,” Nuka sighs dramatically. “And my sister prefers him, too. Everyone thinks I’m useless when I’m the one who feeds them–”

 

“All _ I _ do is save their asses, and I never get so much as a thank you–” 

 

“I’m a good brother!” 

 

“I’m only on this date to make Regina’s sister happy!” They pause in happy silence, and Emma smiles tentatively at Nuka, wondering for the first time if this date might have been a success after all. Maybe it’s the wine. Regina is glaring coldly at Nuka now, which is probably a good sign. “You know what?” Emma pronounces. “You’re a damn good son. And it’s time we told your mother that.” 

 

Nuka’s smile fades, his eyes widening. “Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

 

“No, go ahead,” Regina says. Her toes are still running up and down Emma’s calf, which is really something Emma should have put a stop to a while ago. “Defend his honor. That’ll make for a really compelling end to such a  _ lovely  _ date.” She’s scowling at both of them, crankier than before, and Emma leans into Nuka’s arm for a moment to marvel at the cute little vein that pops on her forehead. 

 

Regina’s, like, really cute. “We have to get the check first,” Emma remembers suddenly. “Also dessert. Tiana makes this amazing creme brulee–”

 

“I’ll bring it home for you,” Regina says swiftly. “And I’ll get the check. This date has gone on too long already.” 

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma demands. “We were having fun. Is it because I made a friend?” She links her arm with Nuka’s. “We have to go now. I need to tell his mom the  _ truth _ .” 

 

“Go. Knock yourself out,” Regina says, and she’s still glaring at them as they walk out of the restaurant and toward the hearse. 

 

Nuka’s mother is seated on the back of the hearse, smoking, the trunk open and the casket inside visible. If Emma squints, she can see the black hair of a lion’s mane popping out of it. 

 

Nuka’s mother– Zira, maybe?– narrows her eyes at them. “You’ve been a while.” 

 

“We had dinner, Mother,” Nuka says meekly. “With the mayor and Snow White, too.” 

 

“Fraternizing with  _ Snow White _ ,” Zira echoes. “You continue to be a disappointment.” 

 

Emma remembers her mission. “Hey!” Zira shifts to stare at her with the kind of glare that would make a tree wither. Emma, who’s been dealing with Regina for half a decade, is less than intimidated and also a little drunk. “Your son is a gem. A good guy. You gotta start treating him like it!” 

 

Nuka’s eyes widen. “Don’t talk to my Mother like that,” he snaps, the enthusiasm for her telling off Zira gone as quickly as it had come. “She knows what’s best for me.” 

 

“But you–” Emma jabs a thumb at him, baffled and exhausted. “Okay. Fine. I’m just going to go home.”

 

“Please,” Zira says. “Let us drive you.” 

 

“I can just teleport–” 

 

“Rude,” Zira mutters. “How predictable. One of Snow White’s brood, too good to ride along with us.” 

 

Emma’s getting really, really tired of being told who she thinks she’s too good for. She’s tired and a little drunk and this has been a  _ really  _ weird date, and she just wants to be home on the couch, head on Regina’s lap while Regina takes apart every bit of their night to mock everyone involved. “Fine. Whatever.”

 

She sits in the back seat again, listening to the banging in the back of the hearse as the casket cover flies open and slams shut again, over and over again. She thinks she may have heard a growl at least once, and she turns around to peer through the divider between the car and the trunk. There’s nothing. 

 

She shuts her eyes, listening to Zira reprimand Nuka for everything from not getting her a steak to failing to seduce Emma well enough. She knows better than to fall asleep in a car with two utterly untrustworthy villains, and she drifts off for a moment and then jerks up, staring wildly out the window. “Where are we?”

 

The good news is, they’re in the middle of Main Street instead of in the middle of some shady corner of Storybrooke. The bad news is, they’re parking. “What’s going on?” Emma demands. “Why are we here?” 

 

The back door opens and a familiar face pokes her head inside. “Ah, there you are,” Maleficent says, smiling coldly at her. It’s the kind of look that Emma practices in the mirror when she thinks about Regina and Snapchat streaks. Mal does it about fifty times better. “I was wondering if Zira would ever bring you.” 

 

“What–  _ please  _ tell me you aren’t trying to take over Storybrooke,” Emma groans. “It’s been so quiet! Property values have gone way up! Regina’s been so happy.” 

 

Zira sniffs, ignoring half of what she’s said. “It’s hardly the time for that yet. We just have a little job we need a boost for.” 

 

“A…boost.” Emma climbs out of the car, and they flit forward from the shadows. There are too many of them, villains she recognizes and a few she doesn’t, and Nuka pats her arm as though they’re in this together. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m the sheriff, and–” 

 

“And you’re innocent, obviously,” Cruella drawls. “And you owe me.” She winks, stretching out her hands to mime her own murder scene. “No one would distrust the golden sheriff when she tells everyone that we didn’t raise the dead.” 

 

“Raise the– that’s really Zelena’s forte, isn’t it?” Emma says, looking around a bit desperately. There are more of them than there  _ should  _ be, which is probably Zelena’s handiwork as well. “I don’t know how to raise the dead.” 

 

Maleficent takes her arm. “You don’t need to know how to raise the dead,” she says, her voice conspiratorial. “You only need to loan me some of your magic. It’s about saving a life, really. Isn’t that what you do, Savior?” 

 

She looks confident– confident like someone who  _ still  _ has a longer Snapchat streak running with Regina– and Emma shakes her head. “You’re all out of your mind,” she says. “I’m not going to be an accomplice in this. I’m arresting all of you for conspiracy to–” 

 

“Regina was right,” Ursula says, shaking her head sadly. 

 

“Regina  _ was  _ right,” Maleficent agrees.

 

“What?” Emma twists to stare at them. “Regina what? About what? Why are you talking about Regina?” It emerges as both accusing and possessive, which is embarrassing enough even before she realizes that she’s slurring her words. “What did Regina say about me?” 

 

“Oh,” Maleficent heaves a sigh. “It’s really not my place.” She gets the same evil glint in her eye that Regina does. From what Regina’s let slip about the relationship, Regina probably learned how to put on that look from Mal, which pisses Emma off a lot more than she’d like to admit. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Mal says encouragingly. “So Regina doesn’t think you’re spontaneous. That’s all right! Plenty of people aren’t spontaneous. They’re solid, staid, like a wall–” 

 

“Boring as fuck,” Cruella says dryly, sliding an arm over Zira’s shoulders. “But please, arrest us if you must, darling.” 

 

“Regina thinks I’m  _ boring _ ?” Emma repeats, her brain fuzzing enough that  _ fuck her _ (angry) becomes  _ fuck her  _ (needy) and she straightens her shoulders and says, “Fine! I’ll resurrect whoever you need. I don’t care. I’m spontaneous like that, and Regina is  _ wrong _ .” 

 

“I’ll tell her,” Mal says, patting Emma’s shoulder. “I’ll send her a snap right when we’re done.” She raises her voice. “Drizella! The fairy dust?”

 

_ Oh _ . This is how they’re going to raise the dead, with too much fairy dust and all the powers behind it. Regina won’t even let Emma touch it when it isn’t condensed into some kind of magic drug. She claims that Emma’s innate true love magic will react badly with it and precipitate some kind of explosion, same as it had when Gold had dropped that magic egg into the well as the curse had broken. 

 

But Regina also thinks that Emma isn’t spontaneous, so what does she know? Mal holds out a glowing cylinder, passing it to Emma. “Open the cylinder and inhale with your nostrils only,” she instructs. “You’ll begin to feel the effects of the fairy dust right away.”  _ Right _ . Emma bobs her head, her fingers sliding under the lid of the cylinder–

 

“Hands up! Drop that cylinder!” There’s a flashlight shining on their eyes, a familiar voice barking out orders, and a dozen villains scatter as Mulan shines her light around. Maleficent disappears, shivers out of existence in front of Emma’s eyes, and Emma is left standing with the cylinder in her hand and only Nuka beside her. Even the hearse is gone.

 

Nuka says, “She’s the sheriff! She’s my alibi!” Mulan stares at Emma with deep, deep disappointment. 

 

“You’re both under arrest,” she announces, and Nuka smacks the cylinder, knocking it out of Emma’s hands. It explodes on the ground in a burst of green smoke. When the smoke clears, Nuka is gone.

 

* * *

 

Regina takes her sweet time coming to the station, which means that there’s plenty of time for Mulan to cast disapproving looks at Emma. “You know, this is all your girlfriend’s fault,” Emma protests. 

 

Mulan is not impressed. “Zelena gives you the tools to make a fool of yourself, but she isn’t the one who chooses to use them. You’re a role model in this town, Emma. You can’t be snorting fairy dust and raising the dead.” 

 

“How did Zelena do it, then?” 

 

Mulan shrugs. “As long as I don’t find her in the middle of Main Street with a number of suspicious persons, I don’t ask any questions. She keeps it in her house, and I don't demand answers why her cellar door is suddenly glowing neon green.” 

 

“This is favoritism,” Emma grumbles, sinking onto the bed of her cell. “Also, Mal’s fault. Why can’t you arrest Mal more often?” 

 

Mulan cocks her head and chooses not to answer that. “ _Speaking of favoritism_ ," she says pointedly, "Here’s the mayor herself to bail you out and take you home.” 

 

Regina strides into the station with a scowl on her face that brightens when she sees that Emma’s alone. “What happened to your boyfriend?” she says, pursing her lips.

 

“He ran off when the police showed up. The…other police.” Emma points at Mulan. “Ha,” she says a moment later, her brain catching up with Regina’s words. “I knew you were jealous. He’s not my boyfriend.” 

 

“I’m not  _ jealous _ ,” Regina says stiffly. “I only came here because we were going to lose our snap streak. There’s an hourglass next to your name, and I  _ don’t  _ lose snap streaks, Emma Swan.” 

 

“Right. Sure,” Emma drawls. She’s still a little drunk, she thinks, and she struggles to keep her steps steady when Mulan lets her out of the cell. Regina puts a hand on her back, guiding her from the station, and she slides open the car door for Emma. A gentleman, just like Nuka. Except she probably wouldn’t run off without Emma if they were caught raising the dead. “It’s okay, you know,” she says. “Being jealous.” 

 

“I’m not jealous,” Regina says again, this time with an added eyeroll that convinces no one.

 

“We don’t share well.” It’s crystal clear in Emma’s head in a way that only the perfect amount alcohol can achieve. “Not Henry. Not each other. We have our house and our family and we aren’t great with other people getting in the way.” 

 

“You may have a point,” Regina admits grudgingly. 

 

Emma bobs her head. “It’s…codependent or unhealthy or something, probably.” Regina doesn’t respond, just watches her in the dark, and Emma struggles again to find her thread. “And it’s not going to last forever, I guess. That’s what we’re doing with Zelena, right? Learning to break out of our comfort zone at home.” 

 

“That’s what you’re doing with Zelena,” Regina corrects her. “I’m…” Her voice trails off.

 

“You’re helping out your sister,” Emma finishes. “You don’t…don’t you see yourself eventually finding someone?” The idea of Regina in love with someone and bringing them into her home makes Emma nauseous to consider. But it’s inevitable. They can’t stay here forever, trapped in limbo, can they?

 

“I already have everyone I need,” Regina says, and her brown eyes glint like gemstones in the light that steals into the quiet car. “Let’s go home, Emma.” 

 

The drive is short, even when Regina’s driving so slowly, but Emma’s asleep long before they make it to Mifflin Street.


	6. Chapter 6

It’s morning. The sun is out, the sky is clear, and Zelena hasn’t roped Emma into a new dating activity just yet.  _ Good morning _ , Emma types onto a snap of herself still in bed, sleepy-eyed and happy, and she sends it to Regina and Henry.

 

She gets back two equally sleepy-eyed smiles that she screenshots, scrolling back through them fondly. Henry has his hair sticking straight up in his, his eyes half-shut, but his smile is wide. Regina has run her fingers through her hair enough that there’s minimal bedhead, and she looks so soft that even her greatest victims might doubt that she’d once been the Evil Queen. 

 

By the time Emma’s showered and come downstairs, Regina is dressed in a power suit and looks like the consummate professional. She passes Emma a mug of coffee without a word, busying herself at the stove with eggs. “Omelet?” 

 

“Scrambled, please. Extra cheese?” Emma hoists herself up onto the cabinet next to the stove, gulping down her coffee as she watches Regina cook. “Hey, don’t you think we should pass a town ordinance making fairy dust totally illegal?” 

 

Regina doesn’t bat an eyelash at the sudden leap into work talk. “I don’t see how we could. Fairy dust has many uses beyond recreational. Some of the mothers in town have been lobbying for it to be banned for years, but it’s saved too many lives for us to ban it altogether.” 

 

“It’s a hallucinogen,” Emma protests. “You banned dreamcatchers and barely anyone could use them! This is an epidemic spreading through the town.” Okay, she’s the sheriff and has picked up more rowdy kids because of alcohol than fairy dust, but  _ still _ . She has some concerns about it, that’s all.

 

“I didn’t ban dreamcatchers,” Regina corrects her. “I suggested that it may be in poor taste to sell them after Tiger Lily made some very persuasive arguments about cultural appropriation.”

 

“What about…fairy cultural appropriation…?” Emma tries, and Regina rolls her eyes and scoops up her eggs with her spatula.

 

“Emma, for the sixth time, I don’t think you’re boring. And I’m not breaking my Snapchat streak with Mal. Eat your eggs.” 

 

“That wasn’t my point!” Emma protests. “I’m concerned for…the children. All the children. Don’t do drugs, kids. Stay in school.” 

 

“Thanks,” Henry says as he walks into the kitchen, taking the glass of orange juice that she pours for him automatically. “That was the plan. Pass the coffee pot.” 

 

He reaches for it and Regina swats him away. “It’ll stunt your growth,” she says reprovingly. “Drink your juice.” 

 

“How was your date last night?” Henry asks, moving to Regina’s left, then right in a vain attempt to snag some of the eggs she’s frying. Regina snaps her spatula threateningly. “Was it love at first sight?” 

 

Emma chews her eggs a little glumly. “He got me arrested. And your mom crashed my date.” 

 

Regina scoffs. “You needed me. I bailed you out, didn’t I?” 

 

“I  _ so  _ don’t want to know,” Henry says, shaking his head. “What’s next on the Aunt Z Agenda?” 

 

“Nothing at all,” Emma says, just as Regina says, “Scavenger Hunt.” 

 

She was supposed to be  _ free _ . “What? When?” 

 

Regina heaves a long-suffering sigh. “You really need to get the app, Emma.” 

 

She downloads it on her way to work, already wary of what chaos granting Zelena access to her phone might bring. Henry departs from their trio early, making a beeline for two of his friends across the street, and Regina says wistfully, “Remember when he used to let us kiss him goodbye before he got on the bus?” 

 

“Remember him being a smartass kid who was half our height?” Emma sighs, a little mournfully. “Those were the days. Except for all the attempted kidnapping and murder–” 

 

“I did not attempt murder,” Regina says archly. “It was a sleeping curse. I didn’t want to kill you.” She raises her chin. “Killing you would have broken the curse by default.” 

 

“Good point,” Emma says, raising an eyebrow. “Very comforting. What would have happened if I’d died naturally before I came to Storybrooke?” 

 

Regina shrugs. “Do you really think I thought any of it through?” Her lips twist in a grimace. “Twenty-eight years with Mary Margaret Blanchard. I was not prepared.” She brightens. “I could have let you grow up in the asylum, I suppose. Give Belle something to do. Bring you ice cream every now and then. Make our relationship now excruciatingly creepy.” 

 

“What relationship?” Emma says innocently.

 

Regina gives her a look. “The one where you sent me a Snapchat video of you–” 

 

“The station!” Emma exclaims, very loudly. “Wow, it looks really busy with all the...two cars parked outside. I’d better go relieve Mulan.” 

 

Regina grins. “Have a nice day,” she says, swooping in to press a kiss to Emma’s cheek. Emma stares at her, wide-eyed. Regina purses her lips. “Well, Henry won’t let,” she sniffs. “I’m going to work.” She turns, her heels clicking against the sidewalk as she heads for Town Hall.

 

Emma walks into the station, a little dazed, and comes face-to-face with a set of grinning faces. Marian is seated comfortably at her desk, twirling a little toy that Emma doesn’t recognize, and Mulan says, expectantly, “So?” 

 

“So…what?” Emma says warily. “There’s nothing to  _ so  _ about.” 

 

Marian says, “She means, ‘so did you and Regina confess your undying love for each other and fall hopelessly into couplehood?’ Just the usual questions.” She’s grinning, and Emma glares at her.

 

“ _ No _ ,” she says firmly. They both look disappointed. “It’s not going to happen, Marian.” 

 

“Why not?” Marian demands. “It’s not like you two aren’t already deep in the Boston marriage of the century. You’re telling me that that kiss was platonic?” 

 

“The kiss on my cheek that was meant for our son? I  _ hope so _ ,” Emma says, sighing as she gives Marian’s chair a push. It rolls across the room, clearing the area behind her desk, and Emma pulls up another chair and fishes out some unfinished paperwork. “Look, I’m not saying that I don’t care about Regina.” 

 

Mulan leans back in her chair. “Are you saying that you aren’t in love with her? Because no one–” 

 

“She’s  _ happy _ , Mulan.” Emma looks at them both pleadingly, willing them to understand. “She’s content. How often does that happen to Regina? How often does that happen to  _ me _ ? I’m not going to risk our happiness because you’re all convinced that there’s something else there.” She stares down at her paperwork, then jerks back up. “And, you know, at least Zelena gets that. In her own…really twisted way.” 

 

Marian snorts. “Sure she does. She’s taking her agency very seriously.” 

 

“Well, if you don’t think so, then why did you hire her? Aren’t you there to find someone?” 

 

Marian shrugs. “Not…really? Zelena keeps things interesting. I’m having fun,” she says, sliding her over so she can put her feet on Emma’s desk again. “I don’t know if I ever plan on dating seriously again. Right now I have my friends, and I have Roland, and I don’t feel as though I’m enough of a secondary character to be fridged this time. I like my life as it is.” 

 

“Ha!” Emma says triumphantly, jabbing her pointer finger at Marian. “See?” 

 

“Though, you know, if I were madly in love with my roommate, I’d probably do more than send her horrifying Snapchat videos,” Marian finishes. She frowns, fishing out her phone. “Speaking of which, what does this yellow heart next to Regina’s name mean?” 

 

“You have a  _ what? _ ”

 

* * *

 

She opens Zelena’s app as soon as Marian’s gone, commenting to Mulan absently, “So I have this idea of how we’re going to ban fairy dust and lock up the people behind it– or at least confiscate their phones– what  _ is  _ this?” 

 

“Oh, the app.” Mulan peers over her shoulder. “It’s a little like Tinder.”

 

“It’s  _ exactly  _ like Tinder. Did Zelena steal their API, or–” 

 

“No,” Mulan says, defensive. “There are other features to the app, too. This is just one part of it, and the legal team won’t be able to get into Storybrooke to investigate it, either, so there was no point to that cease and desist.” 

 

Emma looks at her for a moment. “You’ve changed since you started dating Zelena, Mulan.” She peers back at the Tinder part of the app, which is requesting to link with her Facebook. She shrugs and connects it, watching with satisfaction as a list of faces pop up to scroll through. “Is this  _ everyone _ in Storybrooke?” 

 

“Zelena’s a very accomplished businesswoman,” Mulan says, leaning back in her chair to flip through the reports that Emma had bungled the day before. “Did you requisition a dozen cases of ice cream? Where are we putting that?” She pauses. “Oh, a requisition for a freezer. Nice. Thinking ahead. And did you eat the pizza here on your own?” Emma looks very fixedly at a horrifying image of Leroy attempting to smile at the camera. She swipes left. Mulan says, “How do you still  _ look  _ like that?” 

 

“Magic burns calories. A  _ lot _ of them. I need this stuff to…properly fight criminals. Like Maleficent,” Emma says, swiping left on  _ that  _ picture, too. “Hey! Regina!” Regina has a secret smile in her picture, and Emma pauses to admire the image for a moment. She reaches down to swipe right when Mulan stabs the green star below Regina’s face. “Hey!” 

 

_ Super like _ appears in green on the screen, and Emma stares at it in horror as Mulan leans back again, smug. “I don’t even recognize you anymore,” Emma says darkly. She swipes right frantically, liking every person who follows in a mad attempt to pretend that this is  _ normal _ , and then a notification pops up.  _ It’s a Match! Regina super liked you.  _

 

“You’re welcome,” Mulan says smugly. “Be careful. Zelena has added some… enhancements to the app. You don’t want to accidentally use one of her built-in pickup lines.” 

 

“Right,” Emma agrees. “But…”  

 

“ _ Right _ ,” Mulan says again, her eyes widening in alarm. 

 

“But  _ maybe _ ,” Emma says, staring down at the  _ It’s a Match!  _ and chewing on her lip. “If we’re just doing this as a joke, I should keep up the joke, right?” 

 

Mulan sighs deeply. “Remember that time last year when you took Regina to a candlelit dinner on Valentine’s Day because you wanted to woo her into letting you keep that ugly couch you bought? And she went along with all of it? And let you keep the couch?” 

 

Emma blinks at her. “Yeah. So?” 

 

“Never mind.” She waves her hand at the phone. “Go ahead. Send her a terrible pickup line. You’ll probably get a freezer out of it.” 

 

“Oh, Mulan. You really get me.” Emma scrolls until she finds the perfect line, and then hits the  _ send to matches  _ button. “There. All set.” She pauses. “Wait. Did it say  _ matches _ ?” 

 

Yes. Yes, it had. And in the minutes between frantically liking every person on the scroll and finding the pickup line, she’d matched quite a few times. There are two dozen chats below her list of matches now, and every single one bears the damning,  _ Remember me? Oh, that’s right, I’ve met you only in my dreams. _

 

“You know,” Mulan says conversationally. “Have you ever considered investing in a flip phone? One of those little ones where you have to hit twenty buttons on the number pad just to spell out your name?”

 

“I’m considering joining the nunnery, actually,” Emma says faintly.

 

“Solid choice.” Mulan snatches her phone away. “How considerate. Doc thinks you’re sweet, but wants to remind you that he helped pull you out of your mom’s–” 

 

Emma presses her face into her hands.

 

Mulan raises her eyebrows. “Tamara wants to know if you’ve really forgotten about the whole kidnapping your son thing because you two have lots in common. Didn’t she date your dead ex?” 

 

“Stop.  _ Stop _ ,” Emma begs. 

 

“And Regina says  _ tell me more about these dreams _ , no winking emoji or anything. Harsh,” Mulan says, her tone dead serious.

 

“What? Give me that.” Emma snags it back from Mulan and confirms that she hadn’t been joking. “Oh my god. What do I say?” 

 

“You say ‘didn’t I already send you a Snapchat video all about–’”

 

“ _ Why  _ are we back to this?” Emma demands, staring down at the screen. She types, deletes, types again, and comes back with the very snappy  _ You do know this is Emma, right? _

 

_ I thought I recognized you from breakfast. That picture is a lie,  _ Regina retorts a moment later.  _ Your hair hasn’t been that curly since before the curse broke. _

 

_ Do you like it?  _ “Put in a winking emoji,” Mulan hisses, and Emma, through no conscious will of her own, obeys. Except it isn’t the winking emoji, it’s the winking emoji with its tongue out, and somehow that’s worse. 

 

Regina responds faster than anyone having a crisis at her desk at work hours would, which is completely unfair to those of them who are.  _ One of the greatest tragedies of the curse breaking.  _ A moment, then:  _ Along with all those years as a pariah, I suppose. _

 

“She’s flirting with her. I can’t believe this. They’re  _ flirting _ ,” Mulan is saying into her phone. “You’re a genius. A mad, evil genius, but a genius.” 

 

Emma holds up a hand. “Can you keep it down? I’m trying to focus here.” She settles with  _ Same for your evil Mayor bob. A very good look.  _

 

_ Do you like this picture? Zelena thought it was offputting, so I used it for her black market Tinder _ .

 

_ You look like the Mona Lisa, _ Emma types without thinking, and then stares at the response screen in chagrin. Too far, probably.  _ I mean, because of the smile.  _

 

Another pause, then Regina’s response.  _ So you think the Mona Lisa’s prettier than me?  _

 

Emma jerks back from the screen, aghast and ready to type a denial when the door to the station pops open. Granny pokes her head in. “Maybe this is a little forward, but we matched on Zelena’s Tinder app and I thought, shot in the dark, you know?” she says, brandishing a plate with two grilled cheeses on it. “How do you feel about lunch?” 

 

* * *

 

_ Sorry about that. I had an impromptu date with Granny that I couldn’t refuse,  _ she types later. There’s no response for a while, and Emma sighs, waiting for Regina to stop laughing long enough to type.

 

_ I understand,  _ comes Regina’s response at last.  _ I hear she makes a mean grilled cheese.  _ Mulan. Emma’s going to kill Mulan.  _ Is this why I had two dwarves in my office earlier, begging me not to kill them for matching with you?  _

 

_ This is Zelena’s fault _ , Emma types stubbornly.  _ I didn’t super like you, either. That was Mulan. _

 

_ Mulan super likes me? She’s never said.  _

 

Emma grimaces at her phone, exiting out of the matching part of the app to the rest of it. There’s a calendar with an auto-updating agenda on it, complete with what’s listed as  _ Scavenger Hunt  _ this weekend and the worrying  _ Ladies’ Auction  _ in green next weekend.

 

When she clicks on the scavenger hunt, three names pop up beside  _ Your Team _ . They’re all people she’d accidentally matched with, which is…considerate of Zelena to program that into the algorithm, she supposes. Less considerate is Regina not being one of her teammates. 

 

She switches back to the chat to ask Regina about her teammates, and sees instead that she has four new messages.  _ You can do better than that ;)  _ is the first, from Dr. Whale, unfortunately. There’s a bewildered  _ I do remember you, Sheriff. You arrested me and fed me a half-eaten pop-tart _ , which is maybe something she should apologize to Will for. Sneezy wants to know if she’s  _ taken or still dating the Evil Queen.  _ And from Merida, there’s only  _ Spar at midday? _

 

Emma blinks at all of them and opens Regina’s chat instead.  _ I’m paired with Tamara, Merlin and Will for the scavenger hunt _ .  _ How about you?  _

 

_ Archie, Marian, and Merida. We’re going to destroy you _ , comes the instantaneous response. A snap appears at the top of the screen moments later, and Emma opens it to Regina wearing a flower crown as though it’s a royal coronation. “You don’t stand a chance,” she says imperiously and blows Emma a kiss. Emma replays the snap and then pays 99 cents to replay it again. 

 

This is familiar, comfortable in a way that so few of Zelena’s plans are. Emma cocks her head, a slow smirk spreading across her face as she holds down the button to video herself, and she says, “You’ve been telling me that since I first drove into town. But yeah, I’m sure your  _ archers _ can beat my  _ centuries-old magician _ .” 

 

Her FaceTime starts beeping a moment later. “Your centuries-old magician is very enamored with one of my archers,” Regina informs her from where she’s sitting, and everything about Regina in this video chat is perfectly staged, from the hastily undone button on her shirt to the finger she bites on when she’s done retorting. Emma watches her with fascination, mouth very dry. “If you think we haven’t already started on intel for this weekend, you don’t know me at all.” 

 

“Is this why Merida wants to spar with me tomorrow?” Emma demands. Regina’s eyes glitter in response. “You  _ live  _ with me. What more intelligence do you need?” 

 

“Emma, you are a fascinating, multifaceted creature,” Regina says, moving her finger so she can fiddle absently with her open blouse. “There’s so much more that I can learn. It’s one of my favorite things about you. Along with the way that you’re absolutely incapable of hurting me.” Her eyes grow round and sad, and Emma hates that she can instantly feel her own need to  _ do something  _ stirring. “You won the final battle foretold between us in the breaking of the original curse–” 

 

“Did I?” Emma says dubiously. “You’re still the mayor of this town and I literally live in your house. Not really a vanquished enemy kind of dynamic. I  _ do your laundry _ .” 

 

“–Can’t you let me have this one victory?” Regina finishes sadly. Emma’s heart gives a teeny twinge. “And  _ please _ . You put my favorite white bra in the wash with that red lacy one and turned it pink. I am truly subjugated.” 

 

“You don’t own a white bra,” Emma says, eyes narrowing. She might be a patsy, but she’s a patsy who has never failed to at least  _ notice  _ Regina’s breasts once a day. “This is manipulation, plain and simple. I know what you’re up to. And it doesn’t work on me.” 

 

Regina laughs, which does make Emma’s heart flutter a  _ little  _ but not as much as winning will, she’s sure. “Emma, you nearly bought Henry a car for his sixteenth birthday because he pouted at you.” 

 

“You  _ actually  _ bought him one!” Emma points out, mildly outraged. “It’s a good thing  _ Henry _ decided to be the responsible parent, because I’m clearly not the only vulnerable one here.” She clears her throat, the challenge finally sparking something sharp within her. “How about a bet? My team against yours. Winner gets…” 

 

“Winner concedes to being a part of the auction,” Regina cuts in, lips curling into a smirk. “Go onstage, be objectified, win a free day out with your new girlfriend, Granny. 

 

Emma considers for a moment, her phone clenched in her hand. Regina’s eyebrows are raised and she looks so  _ good _ that even the idea of watching half the town bid on Regina seems like a quiet sort of torment. But better that than Emma, right? That’s how they’re doing this. “Deal,” she says, and cuts off the call at once.

 

She has a team to assemble.

 

* * *

 

One hour later, she realizes something, and messages Regina,  _ You matched with Archie?? Isn’t that unethical?? _

 

She doesn’t get a response from Regina. Tamara says, “Is now really the time to flirt with your wife? We have a scavenger hunt to win.” She, at least, is the only one who seems to be taking this seriously. Merlin has asked  _ twice  _ about Marian, and Will is whittling something on the ground. 

 

“Right.” Emma straightens, clearing her throat. “How are we doing on intel? Tamara, do you have any details on how this is going to play out? Will, did you manage to slip into the agency?” 

 

Will perks up, brandishing a piece of paper. “I found a list.” He deflates. “I know Marian did, too, though. She was leaving when I came in.” 

 

“The scavenger hunt is supposed to last the whole weekend,” Tamara informs them. “Twenty items, and we’ll have to take a photo to fill each prompt to qualify. First to finish wins the whole thing and each winner gets a fully funded date at the venue of Zelena’s choice.” 

 

“I’m already living in that hell,” Emma points out. Even the wager with Regina is much more tantalizing, and she says so. “Not that it’s…much better, but…” 

 

“Combine them,” Merlin suggests. “Take Regina out yourself for a weekend retreat.” 

 

Emma stares at him. “Contrary to popular belief, Regina and I aren’t actually  _ dating _ –” She hesitates, considering. “Unless we just…took advantage of this for a friends’ getaway–” 

 

“Right,” Merlin says, exchanging a glance with Tamara. “Definitely that.”

 

“Anyway!” Emma says pointedly. “Let’s see that list.” She glances down it, her eyes widening as she looks through the items. There are some that should be easy, like  _ Team members with five official-line Disney princesses  _ and  _ Team members in the chamber under the library _ . Then there are the others. “ _ Team members setting something on fire _ ,” she reads warily. “ _ Team members with a dozen people who’ve been dead _ .  _ Team member in a compromising position with a statue _ ?  _ Team member streaking down Main Street _ ?” 

 

“You’re our fearless leader,” Tamara says tranquilly. “I nominate you for getting kicked out of the Rabbit Hole, too.”

 

Emma glances back down at the list. “We can do this in a couple of hours. Regina can kiss my–” She stops. “Kiss,” she repeats. “ _ Two opposing team members kissing _ ?” Tamara is smiling when she looks up. So is Will.

 

“I would do it,” Merlin offers, and Emma’s heart sinks instead of leaping with relief. “But I have much higher hopes for my first kiss with Marian.” 

 

Emma says, “I really don’t think she’s looking for anything serious. Kissing an opposing team member? Maybe we can– maybe we can find another team. Not that one.” Her stomach is churning now, and she refuses to think about why. 

 

“We’ll see,” Tamara says, and she snaps her fingers. “Both of you, with me.” Merlin and Will immediately trail after her, leaving Emma to contemplate exactly how much of a fearless leader she really is here.

 

And a kiss. A game-prescribed kiss, this weekend. 

 

It’s absurd, anyway, to think that off all the people who are probably in this scavenger hunt, it’d come down to her and–

 

It’s absurd. She shoves the paper into her pocket and her hands into her pockets after it, and she heads back to the station before Mulan notices that she’s been out for an hour. Mulan raises her eyebrows when she comes in, but doesn’t say a word. The man waiting behind Emma’s desk does. “I saw we matched on the Storybrooke Singles app,” August says, feet up on Emma’s paperwork. “I wanted you to know that I’ve really only ever thought of you as a sister, but if you were into that–” 

 

“Get out.” 

 

He tips his chin and sets his feet back on the floor as he rises. “Right you are.” 

 

Regina messages Emma on Zelena’s app near the end of the work day, a canned message from Zelena’s pick-up lines.  _ Are you a magician? Because every time I look at you, everyone else disappears. _

 

Right on cue, she steps into the station. That extra button is still unbuttoned, not that Emma notices or anything. “Ready to go home?” 

 

“One super like and you’re already taking me to your place?” Emma jokes wanly, her eyes flickering back to Regina’s cleavage, then her lips.  _ Two opposing team members kissing.  _ She stands, unsteady.

 

Regina extends an arm, hooking it under Emma’s. “Come with me, Sheriff Swan. I’m going to seduce you with my best lasagna and my  _ very charming  _ family, and then I’m going to absolutely crush you at the scavenger hunt this weekend.”

 

Emma studies her face– really studies it, watching the vein on Regina’s forehead and the laugh lines by her eyes and the twist of her lips beneath the scar that bisects one. Does she look perturbed, too, or is Emma just imagining it? “I heard Marian got the list for your team.” 

 

“I heard that Merry Man got yours,” Regina counters. “ _ After  _ Marian. Your team has nothing on mine.” She looks hard at Emma for a moment, the humor gone from her eyes. “Did you read it?” 

 

Emma shrugs, nonchalant. “Just a skim. How about you?” 

 

“Just a skim,” Regina murmurs, and her eyes glance down to Emma’s lips for a single, heartstopping moment. “It looks like fun, doesn’t it?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Emma says, and she breathes in, a little shakier than she’d meant to. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

 

She closes her fingers around Regina’s arm and walks beside her as they head back home.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your wonderful feedback and enthusiasm! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

There have been times in Emma’s life when everything’s worked out pretty well, against all odds. There had been that time when she’d given up a son for adoption and been dragged kicking and screaming back to her family ten years later, and that time when she’d accepted an apple turnover from a very distractingly attractive woman and wound up breaking a curse shortly after. There had been that time when she’d kissed her best friend on the night before she’d been meant to be married, and had been launched into a much happier existence from that moment onward. 

 

Today, after several days contemplating the possibility of kissing said distractingly attractive best friend again, she walks up to the Storybrooke Dating Agency and is suddenly very certain that this will not be one of those times. 

 

“Morning, Mal,” Regina greets her friend-slash-Snapchat-streak-buddy-slash-possible-first-lesbian-experience. “So you’ve finally joined the ranks of Zelena’s clients. Right in time for the scavenger hunt!” 

 

Maleficent gives her a smile. Maleficent’s smiles at Regina always look as though she’s mentally cycling back through memories of Regina naked, and Emma coughs loudly to pull her eyes from Regina. “Oh, yes,” Mal says politely, her smile harder on Emma’s face. “Irma, was it?” 

 

“Nice to see you again, Malaria,” Emma says coolly. Regina looks from Emma to Mal, her expression very amused. “Who’s on your team?” 

 

“Oh, I thought it was just people we had matched with,” Mal says, shrugging. “Regina?” She extends a hand.

 

Regina, thankfully, doesn’t take it. “You’re too late. I already have my team,” she says, gesturing to where Merida is waving a bow around very enthusiastically. Her arrow hooks onto Archie’s glasses and knocks them off. Marian retrieves them for him, putting them back on his face and patting Merida’s shoulder. 

 

In any other moment, Emma would have scoffed.

 

Mal nods slowly. “Even better,” she says, and Zelena may not have revealed the list of photos they’re meant to get yet, but Emma is suddenly certain that Mal has seen it. She glares, and Mal looks behind her, her eyes narrowing with interest. “Hm,” she says.

 

“Who’s she?” Tamara says, coming up behind her, and Emma’s never been so grateful to see her teammates before. “Someone else to beat,” she answers herself, and Will nods enthusiastically. Mal is still watching them with an odd little quirk to her lips, which is always enough to leave Emma feeling as though they don’t quite measure up. 

 

_ Fine _ . They’re still going to win. “Where’s Merlin?” she asks, twisting around. 

 

Tamara rolls her eyes. “Fraternizing with the enemy,” she says, jerking a thumb toward Regina’s team. Merlin, predictably, is chatting with Marian, who had called him  _ sweet  _ yesterday. As someone who’d indirectly had a hand in his second death (and her second life, come to think of it), Emma supports his happiness wholeheartedly, but it’d be really nice if he’d wait until  _ after  _ they reign victorious over Regina to do it.

 

Zelena appears in front of the groups at the door to the agency, and she pokes Robyn, who claps her hands together and creates a casual tornado above them to silence the crowd. “You all know this by now,” she calls out when the screaming stops. “The list of photos are now on the app, take a picture and upload it to the right spot. One picture can be used for two items, tops. Winning team will have to come here as soon as they’re done and submit it to me manually so I can check your work. You win, you get a fully funded date at the venue of my choice. I have some ideas. Go!” 

 

She nods to them as they scramble, opening the app and scanning the list. “Team members with a dozen people who’ve been dead,” Marian’s saying. “Tamara, Merlin, let’s get that done now.” She pulls them close when Regina slides into the picture. “What? When did you die?” 

 

Regina gives them a glower. “Aside from my death in an alternate universe, I was tortured to death and revived by the Blue Fairy. At least one of you must remember  _ that _ ,” she says, and her glower shifts to Tamara.

 

Tamara looks unworried. “One of the club, then. Good thing bygones are bygones.” She glances at the four of them, an eyebrow quirking. “Well. What do we all have in common?” 

 

“Good taste in moisturizer?” Will suggests. They all stare at him.

 

Regina waves a hand impatiently. “Yes, it’s atrocious. Some hacks from Hollywood were trying to take control of the author’s pen for a while, but we reclaimed it. Take the picture. I have a bet to win.” 

 

They scatter a moment later, heading down Main Street and eyeballing each other as they walk, only to pause as Maleficent swoops down to mention casually, “I’ve been dead  _ multiple  _ times.” 

 

“I once sacrificed my soul for Regina,” Emma feels obligated to remind them all. “Just like that. No second-guessing.” 

 

Mal raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that sacrificing your soul was on Zelena’s list, Irma?” 

 

_ Right. That _ . Regina gets into position with Mal, and Tamara slides into the picture, smiling at the camera as Emma takes the photo for her team, lips pursed together. “You know my name is Emma. I literally threw a sword into your chest once.” 

 

Mal smiles coldly. “I haven’t forgotten.” Emma snaps the picture and uploads. Zelena sends her a text a minute later that’s just a bitmoji version of Emma slaying a dragon, which is both surprisingly supportive of her and also…why does Zelena have a bitmoji of Emma on call?

 

_ Don’t ask questions _ , Mulan texts back.  _ You won’t like the answers. Shouldn’t you be streaking down Main Street? _

 

Will is the one who streaks down Main Street, a full minute before Merida does the same. “Hang on. I have an idea,” Emma says, dialing Mulan while they walk away hurriedly. “Mulan? I need you to arrest Merida for indecent exposure.” 

 

_ So it’s like this, is it?  _ Regina demands in a text.  _ I’ll remind you that I have some pull in this town.  _ She calls a moment later. “This is Mayor Mills. Release Merida.” 

 

“This town’s government is  _ corrupt _ ,” Emma pronounces, texting Mulan in a huff and hanging up. “Let’s go set something on fire.” 

 

They reupload the photo with Maleficent and Regina for  _ Team members with a dragon  _ and use the first for  _ Team members with seven magic users. _ Emma and Tamara sit in shopping carts while Will and Merlin race them, Mary Margaret happily photographing the whole thing (“I have some ideas for that date you’re going to win from Zelena. How do you feel about singing rodents?”).  _ Team member with a doppelganger  _ is trickier, but they put Merlin next to a tree and snap a picture that Emma deems sufficient.  

 

“Team member in compromising position with a statue,” Merlin reads. “Where are there any statues in Storybrooke? I haven’t been here long.”

 

Tamara shrugs. “I’ve barely spent any time here. Neither has Will.” Will nods. “Emma?” 

 

Emma chews on her lip, contemplating. “We’re not exactly putting up American patriots in a town built by a curse. And we aren’t exactly putting up statues of Enchanted Forest heroes because they’re likely to come to life and kill us all. What about that gargoyle? Hugo?” 

 

“I’m not posing with him,” Tamara says immediately.

 

“I had to  _ date  _ him,” Will says glumly. “Never again. He ordered live pigeons and ate them on the light fixture over our seats.” 

 

“Wait,” Emma says, an idea occurring to her. “There’s this pointing garden gnome by Regina’s apple tree at Town Hall. I think it may have been a person at some point because we get gnomes planting flowers in memoriam there every now and then. It counts if Hugo counts.” 

 

And that’s how Emma winds up lying on the ground in the middle of the Town Hall lawn, her legs spread with a stone gnome’s finger pointing between them in a  _ very  _ suggestive manner. 

 

“Move closer,” Tamara orders, readying her phone. 

 

“Go to hell,” Emma groans, wiggling a tiny bit closer to the gnome, who had better be  _ dead  _ and not just frozen. If she squints, she thinks she might see its smile widening. Maybe it’s her imagination. At least she’s wearing  _ pants _ . “Just take the–” 

 

“ _ Emma _ ?” It’s Regina, peering out her window and staring down at them in absolute delight. “My god.” 

 

“You go to hell, too,” Emma calls up at her. To Tamara, she grouches, “You’d better have that picture by now,” and rolls away from the gnome. She’s never going to be able to return to Town Hall again now, so they might as well get  _ Item 18: Team members behind the mayor’s desk _ over with now. “Let’s go upstairs.” 

 

She bangs on Regina’s office door, waiting until Marian opens it. “I’m sorry, Mayor Mills is in a meeting right now,” she says, smiling charmingly, and she tries slamming the door. 

 

Merlin puts his foot in front of it. “I really must insist,” he says, and he can smile charmingly just as well as Marian. Emma, who hasn’t smiled charmingly at anyone since her last bail bondsperson bounty, is grudgingly impressed. 

 

Marian turns to look over her shoulder. “He insists,” she says. “And he’s  _ really  _ cute. You should have put Merida on guard duty. She’s immune to cute.” She slides the door open, letting them in.

 

“Merida is getting kicked out of the Rabbit Hole,” Regina says regretfully, eyeing them warily. “Emma, I thought it’d be a while until we saw you here. You seemed…busy.” Her lips twitch.

 

Just to spite her, Emma slides in next to her behind the desk and says, “There. Item 2: Picture with the shortest team member on an opposing team. Upload it.” Tamara snaps it and nods absentmindedly. Will snickers. Merlin is leaning against the wall by the door, oblivious to anything but Marian. 

 

“ _ Excuse me _ ?” Regina says, the amusement fading from her face with a snarl. “Did you just call me  _ short _ ?” 

 

“You’re wearing three-inch heels and you’re still shorter than me,” Emma says easily. 

 

Regina scoffs. “Am I supposed to pretend that your boots don’t have wedges? I’m five foot five. That’s  _ above average _ .” 

 

And that’s a blatant lie. “You’re not five-five.  _ I’m  _ five-five and I’m still a good inch or two taller than you when I’m barefoot.” 

 

“Just because you're wrong about your own height–”

 

“I’m not wrong. You’re wrong,” Emma insists. 

 

“I should have murdered you years ago. You, Snow, David,” Regina mutters, which is maybe just a little extreme. “When we’re barefoot, you're barely taller than me. If at all.  _ Murder _ .”

 

“Do you spend a lot of time measuring each other barefoot?” Archie asks curiously. Tamara snorts. 

 

Regina blinks at him. “I must be taller than  _ you _ .” She marches over to Archie, waiting until he stands up before she straightens, glaring at him until he slouches.

 

“You’re standing on your toes,” Emma observes. “And he’s still taller than you.” She pats Regina’s shoulder. “It’s very adorable. You could be the eighth dwarf…Murdery.” 

 

Tamara observes, “She is looking pretty murdery now. You should remind her about that soul sacrificing thing again.” Archie is moving away from them in subtle increments, glancing worriedly at Regina’s hands.

 

“I will set you on fire,” Regina says through gritted teeth. 

 

Emma widens her eyes. “Do you want me to bend down, or…?”  

 

* * *

 

They escape. Barely, and only because Merlin looks up from Marian for long enough to decide that they’re in need of a rescue. There’s a flash of smoke and they’re abruptly in the library, right in front of the elevator to the chamber below. “We’ve got to go down there, don’t we?” 

 

“Should be pretty simple,” Tamara says, pushing the button to open the elevator doors. “Emma, you’ve been down here, right?” 

 

“Yeah. The elevator’s hand-operated,” Emma says slowly, suddenly understanding the complexity of going down there now. “So we need someone to stay upstairs. But we all have to be down there for this picture.” 

 

“Can’t we just…poof?” Tamara wonders, making a motion with her hands that’s an approximation of Regina’s  _ I’m out _ teleport. 

 

Emma frowns, flicking her wrist. The magic comes, but it won’t penetrate the chamber, for some unknown reason. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem to be working.” Merlin bobs his head. “Zelena must have blocked it again.” 

 

“So we ask someone for help. Belle works here,” Will says helpfully. “She’s really nice. We dated once for a week before she forgot I existed.”

 

“Isn’t she–” Emma starts, but Will’s already calling, “Oi! Belle!” 

 

Belle emerges from the other end of the library, looking at them disapprovingly. “This is a library. Please respect our patrons.” 

 

“Of course,” Merlin says, smiling at her. “Our apologies.” 

 

Belle melts. “It’s okay. I don’t have any patrons right now, anyway. What can I do for you?” 

 

Merlin gracefully takes point in this. “Would you mind lowering us down into the chamber below for a few minutes? We’ll be right up, if you’ll wait here for a bit.” 

 

“But–” Emma starts, and Tamara shushes her. 

 

“Let Merlin work,” she mutters. “He could probably persuade you to make out with Regina if he flashed that smile long enough.” 

 

Emma is immediately distracted from her point. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Merlin is charming, but he isn’t  _ all-powerful,  _ and what’s Tamara talking about, anyway? “I could make out with Regina without any persuasion, thank you very much.” 

 

“It’s cute that you think that,” Belle says, raising her eyebrows at her. “Why don’t you get in the elevator.” 

 

Emma remembers suddenly. The point. “Aren’t you–” 

 

“Tick-tock, Emma,” Tamara calls from the elevator. “We have a scavenger hunt to win.” 

 

Emma hurries into the elevator. “What I’ve been  _ trying  _ to say was, isn’t Belle one of Zelena’s clients, too?” she says finally. “As in, on another team for this scavenger hunt?” 

 

The elevator doors begin to close. “I sure am,” Belle says, her eyebrows still raised, and Maleficent slides into view behind her with a tight smirk on her face. “Have fun!”

 

Emma throws herself at the elevator doors as they shut firmly, and Tamara stabs desperately at a button that doesn’t work. “Dammit! Emma, why didn’t you  _ say  _ anything?”

 

“I tried! You were all too focused on Merlin’s face to listen to me!” 

 

“It’s a really effective face!” Tamara shoots back, pressing her hands to the elevator doors. They’re still descending, true to Belle’s word, and they land with a thump somewhere far belowground.

 

“Let’s get the picture in,” Merlin suggests. “We’ll see what they want when we’re done.” They take the picture as best as they can, Tamara’s sharp smile and Emma’s pained one jammed in beside each other, and upload it to the app.

 

“Why is there service down here?” Emma says suddenly, frowning at her phone. “Aren’t we deep underground? How are we getting a signal at all?”

 

“Well, I live down here,” Mal says, striding into view. “I’ve made some modifications. Including an exit route.” She eyes them as though she’s found a particularly tasty meal. “How convenient for you.” 

 

“It really is,” Emma says, scowling at her. “Especially since I’ve been working on illegalizing fairy dust.” 

 

Mal scoffs. “That won’t pass. I have the mayor’s office in my pocket.” 

 

Emma clenches her fists. Tamara says, “ _ No _ , Emma.” 

 

“I’m gonna fight her.” 

 

“You’re going to die of starvation and never see the sun again.” That’s enough for her to unclench her fists at least. Tamara puts a hand on her arm. “What can we do for you, dragon lady?” she says, and she’s got a pretty decent charming smile, too. Emma is feeling very at odds with her genetics. “Anything you need crossed off your list?” 

 

“Shortest member,” Mal says, eyes flickering over them. “And there’s that pesky kissing item.”

 

“I’m not doing it. I have limits,” Emma says quickly. “I mean, better me than Re– than anyone else you might choose, but I want to go on record that you’re not attractive at all, and I don’t know why you’d be  _ anyone’s _ first experience with a woman, and–” 

 

“Not  _ you _ ,” Mal says disgustedly, which is pretty rude. Much ruder than Emma had been. “Her.” She points at Tamara.

 

Tamara brightens. “Yeah, I can do that.” 

 

Mal moves  _ fast _ , and Emma doesn’t have time to come up with a snappy retort before she’s already kissing Tamara, the two of them very loudly enjoying themselves for much longer than necessary. Merlin turns away politely. Will drops his phone. Emma reaches for hers a hair too slowly as the pieces connect in her head–  _ Mal kissing Tamara means we have a kissing picture means Regina’s team isn’t kissing ours means there’s no reason to kiss–  _ and Mal snaps her own picture and vanishes again into the shadows. 

 

“I’m not even mad,” Tamara says, sounding dazedly pleased. 

 

* * *

 

They find the way out eventually, just in time to hear voices from down the corridor as another team falls into Belle’s trap. There’s a long passage that takes them out through the mines, and they blink in the sunlight, staring at the area around them. “We’ve already knocked out fifteen of the twenty items,” Tamara says, sounding pleased. “We haven’t done any of the Disney princesses yet.” 

 

“We’ve done Merida,” Emma points out. “And my mom has some book club with Aurora and Ashley.” 

 

“We are  _ not  _ just doing the white ones,” Tamara retorts, making a face, and so they split up. Emma goes to the station to find Mulan, Will heads for Tiana’s, and Merlin and Tamara wind up on some complicated mission to get in touch with Jasmine across realms. Which is a terrible waste of time, but at least Regina’s team is trapped in the chamber under the library right now, judging from her tweets.

 

_ @RM_Storybrooke: emma come get me _

 

_ @RM_Storybrooke: emma i know you’re reading these you have my twitter set to notifications _

 

_ @RM_Storybrooke: emma i can’t believe you’re going to let me languish down here over a silly game _

 

_ @RM_Storybrooke: mal would you come here?  _

 

“I have to go,” Emma says immediately, snapping a picture with Mary Margaret half in the frame before she drives back out to the mines. “You’re ridiculous,” she says when she finally finds Regina, whose team is listed at  _ 18/20 _ .

 

“It got you here, didn’t it?” Regina says, sliding her arm through Emma’s. “And  _ look _ .” She brandishes her phone at Emma. “Mal was so busy double-crossing me that she let our streak lapse. Can you believe it?” 

 

Everything’s coming up Emma today, it seems. “Does she not send you one every four hours just in case?” she says with a straight face. “Obviously she isn’t nearly as committed to your streak as we are to ours.” 

 

“Clearly,” Regina sniffs, and Emma catches the grin before Regina’s face is set again. Marian mutters something to Merida that sounds smug. 

 

Emma clears her throat. “I really hate to do this, but–” She snaps another picture of the two of them before Regina can object.

 

Regina frowns at her. “Where are you uploading that? The magic users item?” She peers over Emma’s shoulder to see her uploading it to  _ Team member with the oldest team member on an opposing team _ and there goes that goodwill, anyway. 

 

“Curse years don’t  _ count _ ,” Regina is still insisting when they make it aboveground, glaring at Emma. “And Archie was a cricket for much longer than I was queen.” 

 

“I  _ said _ I was sorry,” Emma says for the fifth time. “I didn’t realize there was someone past sixty– is it seventy–?” 

 

Regina’s eyes are spitting fire at her. Emma says meekly, “Archie, how about that picture?” 

 

“You’re the most attractive seventy-year-old I’ve ever known,” she tries later, when Zelena’s already closed for the day and they still have two items left on their list. Regina’s team is down to one, and Emma’s afraid of what it might– or might not– be. “I just thought I’d point that out–” 

 

“Quit while you’re only marginally behind, Swan,” Regina says grumpily, packaging up the leftovers from dinner. Henry’s already upstairs, watching something on his laptop. “Shouldn’t you be off finishing your list?” 

 

“Will is trying to get kicked out of the Rabbit Hole. It’s gotten harder as the bouncer’s standards have gotten lower.” She glances at their group chat, where Will is currently complaining,  _ I tossed a bottle at him and he thanked me for not throwing it at his head like Cruella did _ . 

 

_ Did you try breaking a table?  _ Tamara suggests.

 

_ Merida broke three. He says he’s just glad I haven’t set anything on fire. Should I set something on fire??  _

 

Emma leaves them to it. “Don’t you have one left, too? What are you waiting for?” 

 

Regina shrugs, her face suddenly closed off. “It’s just the kissing one. We’ll take care of it in the morning before the agency opens.” 

 

“We’ve got that one left, too. Mal took a picture with Tamara but didn’t give us time for ours,” Emma says, her voice studiously casual. 

 

“Hm.” Regina busies herself with the leftovers again, smoothing down the edges of the plastic wrap and then smoothing them down again. “So that’s your only one left, too.”

 

“Yeah.” Emma forces a laugh. “It’s no big deal. I bet we could convince Mal to kiss Tamara again. They both seemed pretty into it. Zelena might have made another match.” 

 

“Merida flat-out refuses to kiss anyone. Archie doesn’t seem wild about it, either. And Marian wants her first kiss with Merlin to be  _ special _ .” Regina rolls her eyes. “What happened to not wanting a relationship?” 

 

“Apparently, he has a very effective face.” Emma swallows. “So it’s really up to you, isn’t it?” 

 

Regina’s thumb digs a hole into the plastic wrap and she peels it off the container, cutting another piece of wrap. “I suppose it is. I must admit, I’m not really interested in kissing a random opponent. But I don’t have any other options.”

 

“Unless–” Emma says, and then falters, losing her courage.

 

“Unless?” Regina echoes, and she leaves the leftovers on the counter, the plastic wrap crumbling in her hand as she turns to face Emma. 

 

Emma swallows. “Well, I mean…we’re both right  _ here _ ,” she says, gesturing at the kitchen. “And we both only need that one item.” 

 

“We should kiss,” Regina says, her voice rough. “I mean, for the scavenger hunt. If this means we each have a chance of winning the whole thing.” 

 

“Not to mention our bet,” Emma says. Her smile is starting to feel painful. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be anything more than that. Not that I was thinking it would be,” she adds hastily. “I mean– I don’t know what I mean,” she mumbles.

 

Regina says quickly, “No, I get it. It just makes sense.” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Yeah,” Regina echoes. They glance at each other and then down at the counter again, and Emma’s chest feels tight when she tries to breathe. 

 

“Or we could–” she starts, and Regina moves in, clasps a hand to her cheek and kisses her. Emma stops talking immediately, kissing her back with fervor. She slides a hand onto Regina’s back, puts another at the nape of Regina’s neck, slips her tongue into Regina’s mouth and feels the exhale of breath against hers. Her eyes are still open– she’d have thought that they’d drift shut, but she doesn’t dare look away. If she closes her eyes, she might wake up from this when she opens them, and she  _ won’t _ .

 

Emma moves with force and they stumble across the kitchen, Regina’s back slamming against the fridge as her hands slide downward. They don’t go anywhere the two of them can’t return from, but there are hands slipping up the back of Emma’s shirt to flutter across her back, their breasts pressing together as Emma’s hand on Regina’s back somehow lands on Regina’s ass instead. 

 

This feels  _ right _ , right like a night two years ago when they’d stumbled to Regina’s house after a bachelorette party, too sober to be as handsy as they’d been. Emma had had the brilliant idea to try on her wedding dress to make sure it had still fit, and she’d stared at herself in the mirror and hated it desperately, had blinked back sudden tears and failed to hide them from Regina.

 

_ We can fix it _ , Regina had said calmly, and she’d worked quickly, changing the cut and the lace and the veil as Emma had choked out shaky wants. And when she’d been done, Emma had looked light and the dress had been…less cumbersome. Less weighed down with fabric that hadn’t let her move or breathe or think. Emma had twirled and Regina’s eyes had been sad when she’d smiled.  _ This is your wedding. You choose the dress, you choose the venue, you choose the groom– _

 

Emma had kissed her then, had chosen irrevocably, and she kisses her again now. Her eyes are still open as Regina bites her lip, kisses her jaw, moves to her neck as Emma shudders, and Emma runs her hands through Regina’s hair over and over and over again.

 

And then Regina sucks on Emma’s pulse point and Emma nearly  _ yanks _ , too hard on Regina’s hair to be ignored. “Ah–” Regina says, jerking back up to stare at Emma. Emma stares back, her heart thumping painfully against her ribs. “We forgot…” Regina says, breathing hard. “We forgot the picture.” 

 

“Picture,” Emma echoes dazedly. “Right.” They fumble for their phones, swapping them so neither of them can take a picture and then run, and Emma moves in for the kiss first.

 

Regina forgets the picture, too, and they remember only once they’re apart again. “We’ll have to– try again,” Regina breathes, pressing her forehead to Emma’s. The next kiss is slow and languid, curves moving together and their bodies tangled into each other’s. This time, Emma remembers enough to snap her picture, and she parts regretfully from Regina, out of excuses.

 

“Picture,” Regina says, closing her eyes. “I forgot again–” She surges forward and Emma catches her, kissing her hard again, her leg sliding between Regina’s and Regina arching against it. Emma twists, leaning back against the fridge to support herself and Regina’s weight, and Regina moves forward to kiss her cheek and tug at Emma’s earlobe with her teeth. “Picture,” she remembers again, Emma’s ear still trapped between her teeth. 

 

They kiss again, lips moving against lips and little moans escaping, and the picture is taken at last. “Fuck,” Emma says when Regina pulls away. It’s the most intelligent response she can come up with.

 

“Fuck,” Regina agrees, and they stare at each other for a long moment, eyes dark and hooded. “I never…” She swallows. “It’s late,” she says shakily. “We should sleep.” 

 

“Yeah,” Emma agrees. It’s eight pm, but she’s suddenly desperate to be alone. “I’m…tired.” 

 

They walk upstairs together. Emma doesn’t think she’s ever been so acutely aware of Regina’s proximity to her, of every brush of her hand against Regina’s, of every inhalation and every glance. “I’m going to…” she says, gesturing weakly at the bathroom. “Shower. Bath. I don’t know.” 

 

“Bath,” Regina agrees, and Emma is struck with about a dozen images of Regina in the bathtub, of every curve she’d just touched and memorized in vivid detail. Regina is staring at her with quiet hunger on her face, and Emma mutters something and flees for the bathroom as quickly as she can.

 

She showers for long enough that there’s no hot water left, stares blankly into the mirror at her reflection, and then changes into pajamas and climbs into bed at nine-thirty. 

 

It takes twenty minutes of staring at the ceiling before she finally yanks out her phone and opens the app. There are a dozen messages from Tamara, each less subtle than the last.  _ Just fucking marry the woman if that’s what it’ll take to kiss her _ is the most recent one, and Emma swallows and finds the photo that Regina had taken and tries to upload it.

 

An option pops up:  _ Replace the current photo?  _ Emma furrows her brow and hits the cancel button, clicking on  _ Item 8  _ again. Now there’s a photo there of Marian and Merlin kissing, sweet and smiley, and Emma groans and flops back on the bed.

 

She closes the app and opens her photo roll to stare at the now-useless picture. It’s blurry and taken at an angle, as though neither of them had cared very much about the positioning of the camera when they’d been kissing. They’re both smiling, Regina’s eyes closed and Emma’s still open and trained on her face, and the kiss is a blur of skin and lips. 

 

She sends their standard goodnight snap to Regina, struggling for a smile and finally settling on a filter that’ll hide the anxiety on her face. She gets back Regina with bare shoulders and her hair tied up, wearing a flower crown and framed against the tile over her bathtub. 

 

She doesn’t screencap it. It’s already seared into her memory. 

 

* * *

 

Zelena opens at nine o’clock sharp, and there are three teams who have all twenty items completed already. The third is Maleficent’s and Belle’s team, and Emma and Regina agree grimly that it won’t be her victory. “It’s one of us,” Emma says firmly. 

 

“Right. And winner…wins that bet we had.” Regina looks less certain about that, and Emma suddenly remembers the terms of the bet. “So if I win, a date with you gets auctioned off.” 

 

“And if I win, you’re the one with the date.” Emma chews fiercely on her toast as Regina stares blankly at her breakfast. “But if Mal wins…” She can’t believe she’s considering it. 

 

“Mal is  _ not _ winning,” Tamara says when they meet in front of the agency. “If Marian and Regina win, fine. But Mal is going down.” She grins to herself. “No pun intended.” 

 

Emma stares warily at her. Tamara  _ does _ look rather satisfied this morning. “I don’t want to know.” 

 

“I used to hate magic so much,” Tamara reminisces. “I think I’m finally over that. Magic can be pretty handsy.” 

 

Emma looks hard at her. “You mean handy.” 

 

“Sure I do.” Tamara grins again. “And hey, you finally got the girl!” 

 

Emma glares at her. “I didn’t  _ get  _ anything. It was just for the scavenger hunt, and it didn’t mean anything. We agreed on that beforehand, and we’re going to–” 

 

“I was talking to Merlin,” Tamara says, eyeing her curiously. “But please, do go on.” 

 

Emma scuffs her feet. “Nothing,” she grumbles. 

 

There’s a puff of green smoke in front of them, and Zelena beams at the four of them. “Looks like you’re here first. Let me open up, and I’ll check your work right–” 

 

An arrow sails through the air and impales itself into the wall right beside the door. Will ducks. Merlin throws up a protective shield. Another arrow comes, then another, then a blast of magic to break through Merlin’s shield.

 

“It’s them,” Tamara growls. “Zelena, open  _ up _ .” 

 

“Hold on,” Zelena says irritably. “I’m doing the best I can.” She’s unlocking the door slowly, and the arrows keep flying, a hail between the door and the four of them. Zelena gets the door open as Marian, Merida, and Regina all stride forward, the latter grim-faced and the others grinning. Archie hangs back with Pongo, who keeps lurching eagerly toward Regina.

 

She pauses in her magical barrage to scratch behind Pongo’s ears, and Tamara ducks and slides into the door to the agency, shouting, “Will! Emma! Come  _ in _ !” Merlin’s already inside, too, and Will bats aside an arrow, bloodying his hand, and charges into the door.

 

The arrows change course and head for Emma instead, and Emma dodges toward the door, a clear course to it suddenly visible. All she has to do is dodge right again, straight into the doorway before the other team makes it in. Then they win, they get the dubious reward of Zelena’s choice, and Emma wins the bet.

 

And Regina goes on a date with someone who likes her enough to bid on it.

 

Marian raises her bow and fires, and Emma dodges left before she can think about it. There’s a route for their rivals now, all four shoving past her into the agency, and she hears Zelena trill, “We have a winner!” as she sinks to the ground.

 

Regina is still in the doorway, frozen in her team’s moment of victory, and their eyes meet and hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL. Finally, progress. By which I mean that Irma has finally won the snapstreak rivalry, of course! We all knew she had it in her :') xoxo gossip (coalition)girl


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all those of you who are still reading and reviewing this story! Y'all are my perpetual motivation to keep going with what has turned out to be a very difficult story to write. <3 We're at the home stretch now! :)

Regina’s pressed against her, their legs tangled and her chin against Emma’s shoulder. Emma keeps her hands steady, Regina breathing heavily and Emma’s chest moving in a rapid movement against her side. It’s almost like a dream, if a dream were also masquerading as a nightmare headlined by Zelena. 

 

“Oh, what’s that? Right hand to blue,” she says smugly, and Emma could swear that she’d seen a little green glow to the spinner on the Twister board. Right hand to blue means twisting so her palm hits– 

 

–no, Regina’s already moved to that spot. Emma’s on all fours, facing upward, and Regina’s last move has put her squarely on top of Emma. Their eyes meet and flicker away just as quickly, Emma’s cheeks burning. They’d been in this same position…three days ago. But vertical.

 

Vertical, kissing and kissing for a scavenger hunt that Emma had thrown rather than see Regina date anyone else. And everything has been impossibly  _ weird  _ since. They talk in stilted conversation, avoiding each other’s eyes and finding every possible reason to avoid each other. Emma had known this would happen– had known that any kiss would be the kiss of death to her entire life with Regina and Henry– and she’d made the wrong decision just for a moment of sheer bliss and clarity. 

 

“Left foot to yellow,” Zelena announces, not without enough glee that Emma’s beginning to wonder just what her game plan  _ is  _ when it comes to this impromptu singles’ night event, and Emma shifts to move her foot. 

 

It hits the same spot as Regina’s foot at the same time, and they bang into each other and topple to the ground at once. Emma’s hands go up automatically to catch Regina and Regina’s knees and elbows drop so she’s crouching over Emma, their noses bumping for a moment as they stare at each other.

 

“Ha! I win!” Merida, the last person on their Twister board, says triumphantly. Emma doesn’t move. Regina is nestled comfortably in her arms, and neither of them have pulled away yet. 

 

“Sorry,” Emma finally whispers, her thumb stroking Regina’s back absently. “You were going for my circle.” 

 

“That was mine,” Regina breathes back. “I was first.” 

 

Emma stares blankly at her for a long moment before her words register. “You were not. My toe was on it.” 

 

“A toe doesn’t count. Not that anything about this game counts,” Regina sniffs, her head sagging in exhaustion. It bumps against Emma’s forehead, and then they’re close, lips drawn to each other’s as though a magnetic pull is controlling them.

 

They’re barely brushing, Regina’s breath tickling Emma’s lips, and Emma murmurs, “Nothing?” 

 

Regina leaps back. Emma sits, swallowing with unspoken dread. “I,” she says dully. “I think I’d better go for the night.” 

 

“Yes,” Regina says, studiously brushing off her dress, which had ridden up quite a bit during the game. Emma studiously stares at the length of her legs in response.

 

“While I’m winning?” Merida complains. “Don’t you even  _ want _ to even the score?” Zelena is already waving over two newcomers to join her, and she shrugs and stands, stretching to prepare for another game. 

 

Regina swallows. “Did you…did you take the car?” They hadn’t come together, which is another mark of just how tense the past three days had been. Emma hadn’t thought that Regina would come at all, and had come to the event with the grand idea that she might meet someone who’d make her forget about the four– no, five, wasn’t it?– perfect kisses that she’d shared with Regina.

 

Instead, she’d had…this, which is somehow still better than Regina not being there at all. Because she’s completely hopeless, even when everything is worse than before. “I walked,” she says, already regretting that she doesn’t have an excuse to drive Regina home.  

 

“I suppose we’ll walk home together, then,” Regina says, waving vaguely to the door. 

 

“Yeah,” Emma agrees, her heartbeat quickening. “Just give me a minute, okay? I have to talk to Zelena about something.” She makes a beeline for the event organizer, who gives her a dark look when she approaches.

 

“Aren’t you on your way to an evening stroll with my sister? Shoo.” 

 

Emma lowers her voice. “It’s about the charity auction,” she says urgently.

 

“Charity,” Zelena repeats, scoffing. “You mean the Robyn Mills College Fund? A very noble cause.” 

 

Emma stares at her. “You know, it’s usually implied when you do one of these kinds of events that the proceeds are going to…other people.” 

 

“Your mother decided to cast the curse that brought me here without giving me disposable funds. Take it up with her.”

 

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about…doesn’t the whole idea seem sexist? And reinforce ideas of ownership over women, which is pretty archaic?” Emma shrugs, attempting to seem cool and collected. “I mean, maybe the Enchanted Forest bought into this kind of thing, but this is Storybrooke and you’re a modern woman now.” 

 

Zelena considers her. “You know, you’re right.” She raises her voice. “The auction this weekend is now opening up to people of all genders!” she announces. “Emma Swan wants to bid on some sexy men, so step up and sign up with Mulan if you’re reasonably attractive or can enchant yourself to be by Saturday!” 

 

“What– that’s not–” Emma sputters, and Zelena waves her away impatiently. Regina is still waiting by the door, hand tight on her purse. These are the moments that Regina seems to treasure, unable to hide the laughter on her face at Emma making another misstep– but today, her eyes are dark. She’s glaring at every person who’s disentangled themselves from the Twister boards to head to Mulan, and Emma puts a light hand on her wrist. “Ready to go?” 

 

Regina jerks out of her stupor. “More than ready.” She stalks from the agency, her hand twisting away from Emma’s, and she stares straight ahead as they walk in silence. 

 

She’s been in a foul mood all week, snapping at Mary Margaret and skipping dinner with Zelena and coming down for breakfast with just enough time to bid Henry goodbye before leaving herself. She must know just as well as Emma does how thoroughly they’ve screwed up their relationship, and it’s as frustrating as it is relieving that Regina is just as irritated about it as Emma is.

 

“Regina,” Emma says after a few minutes.

 

“What?” Regina snaps, and Emma recoils.

 

She inhales slowly. Somewhere, deep inside and before Zelena had drafted and she’d sent that Snapchat video, she still has some self-respect. “We’re home, but if you want to keep skulking around town like the moon has personally offended you, that’s fine. I’m going to bed.” She turns, stalking up the path on her own, defeat settling in her veins like a painful reminder of just how futile all of this is.

 

Regina follows behind her, heels clicking against the pavement. “Emma,” she says, and Emma immediately gives up and turns, leaning against the front door. “I’m sorry. It’s been…a bad week.” 

 

_ A bad week _ . Bad weeks are weeks when…you get thrown into an alternate universe by a malicious entity and wind up sacrificing your soul for your best friend. Bad weeks are weeks when you almost get married to a creep of epic proportions and barely escape with your dignity intact. Bad weeks are going into hell and fighting Chernabogs and jumping into a forest realm to save your son from Peter Pan.

 

Bad weeks aren’t kissing your best friend who you’re sort of in love with and then pretending that it doesn’t matter, except when they kind of are. “Yeah, it has been,” Emma agrees ruefully. “It’ll get better.” 

 

“I can’t imagine that it will.” Regina leans against one of the pillars of the porch, her face still shadowed. “Maybe for you. You have all those men signing up to be your bid.” 

 

Emma rolls her eyes. “I don’t even…I don’t even think I  _ can  _ bid on anyone if I’m up on that stage.” 

 

“I can pick one out for you,” Regina says, devoid of humor. “Consider it an early birthday present. I hear you want those sexy men.” 

 

“I’d rather die,” Emma says, which she  _ definitely  _ hadn’t meant to say aloud, even if she means it with absolute conviction. Regina blinks at her, startled, and smiles. 

 

It’s the first real smile she’s gotten in days, and it’s enough to brighten her mood. She steals a chocolate chip cookie from the jar on the counter and eats it while she scans her phone, clicking through Zelena’s story on Snapchat. There are  _ four  _ snaps cataloguing Emma’s presence at Twister night, which is overkill even for Emma being Zelena’s official publicity stunt or whatever.

 

The third one is captioned  _ Think they’ve ever done this before? _ It’s Regina on top of Emma, knees and elbows firmly on either side of her while Emma’s hands are on her back, and Emma screencaps it and then replies  _ fuck you _ to Zelena.

 

She gets back another bitmoji of herself, blowing a kiss at the screen, which is thoroughly unnerving. 

 

It’s still early, and Regina’s already vanished into the study for the night. Emma isn’t going to push her luck and act as though everything is back to normal, so she finds some soup in the fridge and heats it up, pulling out her laptop to browse Facebook. Zelena is posting the same photos to the agency Facebook page, and Mary Margaret has commented,  _ Such a beautiful #friendship!  _ There’s a :-) next to the comment, and Emma stares hard at it, debating whether or not her mother understands the art of the passive-aggressive smiley emoticon.

 

She’s  _ bored _ , and just bored enough to click on the latest link on the agency page. It’s a recommendation to try something called  _ Storybrooke Omegle: Talk to Strangers! _ Zelena’s stolen another website’s API, she’s guessing. 

 

Storybrooke Omegle promises to be a site where strangers can meet based on common interests, and Emma considers the box of interests for a moment before she types in  _ beating fate _ and  _ eternal vengeance against zelena. _

 

She gets an instant match.  _ You both like eternal vengeance against zelena _ . Well, that’s something. 

 

**_Stranger_ ** _ : hey _

**_Stranger_ ** _ : i meet so many people with that interest _

**_You_ ** _ : i’m not surprised _

**_You_ ** _ : she’s decided that i’m her charity case for her dating agency and it’s been hell. and i’ve been to REAL hell _

**_Stranger_ ** _ : she turned me into a flying monkey and forced me to do her bidding for years, then abandoned me in new york when she was done with me _

**_You_ ** _ : wait _

**_You_ ** _ : walsh??? _

**_Stranger_ ** _ : emma? _

**_Stranger_ ** _ : i heard you were being auctioned off this weekend _

**_Stranger_ ** _ : don’t you think that’s a little sexist? _

**_Stranger_ ** _ : i could head to storybrooke if you think you’ll go cheap, i still make some nice money at my furniture shop _

**_You have disconnected._ **

 

Emma eats soup and tries again, brow furrowed, and adds  _ Regina Mills  _ to her box of interests. 

 

**_You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!_ **

**_You both like Regina Mills_ ** **.**

**_Stranger_ ** _ : Hi!  _

**_Stranger_ ** _ : Isn’t Regina amazing? _

**_You_ ** _ : she definitely is _

**_Stranger_ ** _ : You’re the first match I’ve gotten for this interest!! It’s so nice to see how many people support Regina now that she’s redeemed. _

**_Stranger_ ** _ : She’s done such a great job with the town. I couldn’t do half of what she does. _

**_Stranger_ ** _ : So smart! So beautiful! I can’t believe she’s still single. _

**_Stranger_ ** _ : All I want for her is a true love who appreciates her. _

**_Stranger_ ** _ : Let me tell you, if I weren’t a married woman and my daughter weren’t completely head-over-heels for her… _

**_You_ ** _ : GOODBYE _

**_You have disconnected._ **

 

Emma winces and types in, on a whim, her own name.

 

**_You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!_ **

**_You both like emma swan._ **

**_Stranger_ ** _ : who the hell are you?? _

**_Stranger_ ** _ : stay away from her!! _

**_Stranger_ ** _ : i will set you on FIRE. _

**_Stranger has disconnected._ **

 

On a ridiculous hunch, Emma wanders toward the study, peering inside. Regina is glaring at the screen and muttering to herself, and Emma says, “Hey.” 

 

Regina jumps, slamming her computer screen shut, and stares at Emma. “Emma,” she says, her voice dry. 

 

“I just wanted to say…goodnight, I guess.” Emma offers her a weak smile. It’s better than avoiding, even if it’s so awkward she can hardly meet Regina’s eyes. “So…goodnight.” 

 

Regina stares at her for a moment, her eyes on Emma’s and searching, and Emma tries another smile. “Goodnight,” Regina says hoarsely. “I…I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“Yeah.” Emma backs away from the door, her heart in her throat. She almost asks– but no, they’re not  _ doing this _ , and she tears her eyes from Regina’s and hurries upstairs.

 

* * *

 

The tension only seems to intensify with the onset of the auction. There are fliers around town proclaiming it  _ The Greatest Event In Storybrooke History Since That Time My Sister Cursed You All Here! (all proceeds go to RMCF) _ and Zelena had interrupted the Town Hall meeting on Thursday to remind everyone to attend. “Even the most hideous people out there can find true love if they’re rich enough!” she says cheerily. “I’m looking at you, Neal.” 

 

Neal beams up at her, looking delighted to hear his name. Robyn pokes him in the eye. Mary Margaret says, “You wouldn’t say that to a little girl. This is discrimination against men.” 

 

“Enough,” Regina says sharply. “Auction Saturday, reductive as hell, feel free to lose your self-respect there. We have other items on the agenda.”

 

A hand goes up. “Why are you so cranky today, Auntie Regina?” Roland wants to know. Regina’s face softens. Roland continues with a nudge from his mother, “Is it because Auntie Emma is going to be in the auction?” 

 

There’s a rumble through the room, and Emma hunches down in her chair and stares at her phone. Storybrooke Omegle, always handy for a distraction, finds her a stranger with her one current interest.

 

**_You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!_ **

**_You both like abject humiliation._ **

**_Stranger_ ** _ : hey _

**_Stranger_ ** _ : if you’re into abject humiliation, you should check out what’s going on right now in town hall :) _

**_You have disconnected._ **

 

Town Hall is only the start of it. Zelena drags her onto the counter at Granny’s and declares, “Only one citizen will go home with a date with this lovely young savior! And she might put out if you play your cards right.” 

 

Regina’s face looks thunderous. Emma says, “I will  _ not _ . This isn’t even a real charity. RMCF is just about funneling money to Robyn’s college fund.” 

 

“That sounds fair to me,” Gwen says, frowning. “College tuition here is unreasonable.” 

 

Ursula nods fervently. “It’s a lot cheaper to have someone curse you a college degree. Can you believe that? Just the heart of the one you love most and you’re not stuck paying student loans for decades. I was working at the New York Aquarium just to pay for my degree in marine biology, and I’m  _ half fish _ .”  

 

“Maybe we need to fix the system, then. Paying for Robyn’s tuition just enables it,” Belle argues, and the other fairytale characters in the diner debating student loans consider it. “Shouldn’t we be advocating against it instead of buying into it?” 

 

Zelena, who never enjoys not being the center of attention, says, “This is beside the point. The real activism here is finding Emma a date who doesn’t send her to jail by the time the date is over.” 

 

“That wasn’t  _ my  _ fault!” Emma protests. “He was the one who kidnapped me and tried to use me for illegal activities. I’m the  _ sheriff _ !” 

 

“I always knew the sheriff’s department was dirty,” Ursula mutters. “An ex-con and her dad? Mulan’s the only one we can trust.” 

 

Emma gapes at her in outrage. “I killed your girlfriend  _ once _ . Once! She’s been dead at least twice!”

 

Zelena hears none of it, of course, and returns to shilling Emma with almost admirable single-mindedness. By the time Saturday rolls around, Regina is barely speaking to anyone, and Emma is nauseous as she loiters outside the makeshift stage and benches that Zelena has set up at the park. “Don’t worry,” Mary Margaret assures her. “We have a plan to hike up your price.” 

 

“I’m going to bid,” David says, squeezing her shoulder. “Make sure whoever bids on you has to work for it.” 

 

“Please don’t win,” Emma says, glancing out at the benches. They’re beginning to fill up with curious spectators. Henry is sitting in the first row with Violet and Grace, and he gives her a thumbs up. There’s no sign of Regina yet. Maybe at all.

 

There are twelve hapless victims of Zelena’s newest plot, and Zelena gathers them all together. “There’s a card with five questions on the podium,” she says. “You introduce yourself and answer those questions to the audience so they can get to know you. Then we’ll start the bidding. Who’s first?” 

 

Emma manages to get in line very last, and she waits on the bench behind the stage as Belle walks onto the stage. “Hi,” she says. “I’m Belle and I like…feminists who won’t bid on this date. My ideal date is with a good book in the library and very quiet. My worst date ever would be the one I’m forced to go on after you all bid on me. I think Zelena is a skilled entrepreneur but also an asshole who absolutely borrowed my first-edition Austen and is holding it hostage to force me to be up here.” She keeps the smile on her face, though, and the bidding starts at fifty dollars and keeps rising until Keith Nottingham scores her at nearly two hundred dollars. 

 

“This is humiliating,” Belle announces, stepping off the stage to meet her bidder. He has a leer solidly on his face, and she says pleasantly, “Remember that time my ex made your tongue disappear because you made some insinuations?” 

 

“I can do that this time,” Emma offers, and Belle shoots her a startled, grateful look. “One wrong move and you lose a limb.”

 

“That’s actually in the contract,” Zelena informs them both. “I take care of my clients. Who’s next?” 

 

Naveen is next, and he actually seems excited about this auction. Tiana snags him for a hundred and twenty dollars and Zelena says, “That’s actually rather good, considering. Most people in this town don’t seem to like men.” 

 

She’s right. Will goes for only a hundred dollars, a very entertained Marco for a surprising one hundred and ten. August almost makes it to Naveen’s record before he opens his mouth, while Merida manages an easy one seventy-five. A date with Mal winds up going up to almost five hundred dollars, Tamara grinning as she snags her prize. Emma, who may have casually loaned some money to Tamara to ascertain that Mal wouldn’t go home with anyone else, whoever they may be, is pleased.

 

“Our final date of the night won’t even turn into a dragon if you piss her off,” Zelena says cheerily. “Savior, sheriff, certainly not married to the mayor of this town, Emma Swan!” 

 

Emma drags her feet as she walks onto the podium, reading the prompts off the card on the stand in front of her.  _ What is your first name? _ “I’m Emma.”  _ Who do you like?  _ “I like…Regina Mills?” she tries. Her audience stares at her. “I mean…I like lots of people. My son. My parents.” Someone snickers. “They’re good people!” she says indignantly. “What’s wrong with liking them?” 

 

“Who are you interested in?” Zelena corrects her. “That’s the question.” 

 

“Oh.” Emma contemplates. “I’m interested in…Regina’s happiness, mostly? And in Henry having a good–” 

 

“ _ Romantically. _ ” Zelena shakes her head regretfully. “You’re an intelligent woman, Emma. How are you this obtuse when it comes to anything that relates to Regina?” 

 

Emma stares at her. “Are you even aware you’re talking out loud? With a microphone?” Zelena shrugs, unbothered. Emma casts another eye over the audience. Still no Regina. “Anyway.” The next question is about her ideal date. “I don’t really have an ideal date. I guess anything feels nice with the right person.” Too many people in the audience  _ aww _ . She glares at all of them and then reads the next question. “My worst date would be one with pretty much anyone but the right person. Not so much a fan of people.” There is  _ no reason  _ why the audience is  _ aww _ ing again. 

 

The final question is, naturally,  _ what do you think of Zelena?  _ “I think Zelena’s a sociopath,” Emma announces.

 

Zelena pats her arm. “Thank you. Let’s start the bidding at fifty. Sixty from Emma’s father! That’s not creepy at all. Thank god, seventy from Nuka, who seems to have enjoyed their date together! Eighty…also from Emma’s father. Is anyone as disturbed about that as I am?” 

 

Emma swallows and continues to scowl at the audience. Zelena brightens. “Ninety from Ava Zimmer, who is a full sixteen years younger than Emma. We should probably have made some rules about that, too. One hundred from David– stop waving your paddle so wildly, you look much too enthusiastic about this– one hundred ten from Maleficent! There’s a twist.” 

 

The bidding rises and rises, Mal bidding with an odd smile on her face, and David keeps going loyally until Mal finally sets her paddle down on her lap at David’s two fifty. “Two sixty? Anyone? I’m begging here,” Zelena says. “Aha! Two sixty from Walsh– what the hell are you doing here?– two seventy from Granny– two eighty– two ninety– three hundred from Walsh again–”

 

“I am not dating my flying monkey ex-fiance,” Emma says, brow furrowing.

 

The numbers are rising, rising, and more people join the auction as the date becomes more and more expensive. “Emma outpaces Mal with five hundred ten dollars from Walsh! No– five twenty from Sneezy– five thirty from Dr. Whale? Really? Five forty from David, who’s still at it. Five fifty from Walsh. Kathryn throws in five sixty, very nice! Five seventy? Do I see five seventy? Five seventy from Jefferson. Five eighty from Walsh. Why are there so many men in this auction? Are there no single women left in town?” Zelena wonders. “Do you really think Emma likes any of you?” 

 

A hand goes up in the back, and Zelena beams. “Five ninety from Nurse Ratched! And six hundred from Goldilocks! Nice to see some ladies represent here. More? No? Back to the men.” She sighs heavily. “David, please stop. Six hundred twenty from Walsh. Six thirty from Whale. Six forty from Walsh.” 

 

Emma waits tensely on the stage, awaiting her fate. “Six fifty– six sixty– six seventy. I’m not counting your bids anymore, David. Six eighty to Walsh. Six ninety to Whale. Seven hundred from Walsh.” 

 

There’s no one else bidding anymore but two men with far too much disposable income and some kind of pride war going on. The numbers are climbing, climbing, and Zelena is warbling something about Robyn’s college major as Emma shuts her eyes and wonders which of them might be worse.

 

She doesn’t have to wonder much longer. Walsh finally sits down at seven hundred and fifty, hitting his limit. Whale smirks smugly at the room. Zelena sighs. “ _ Well _ . Emma gets the letch. His hospital extorts you all and he gets a date with the most eligible bachelorette in town over it. Do I hear a seven seventy five? Seven seventy five from anyone?” She heaves another sigh. “Very well. Seven fifty, going! Going! And–” 

 

“One thousand,” Regina says from the aisle. She’s standing between two benches in the back, her eyes blazing, and Whale gulps audibly. Henry pumps a fist. Zelena cackles delightedly. Emma stares at her, her heart doing something flippy in her chest. “Well? Call it.” 

 

“One thousand dollars and the wrath of the Evil Queen!” Zelena announces. “Going…going…gone! A very gallant rescue, I must admit.” She preens. “I think we can call today a success for RMCF! Winners, please join me at the stage for contracts.” 

 

Regina stalks forward, glowering at everyone who glances her way, and she puts a hand on Emma’s. “You’re welcome,” she says, tossing an especially sharp glare at Whale. “This whole appalling exercise is…a nightmare.” 

 

“I thought you were having fun with Zelena’s events,” Emma says, joining the crowd in front of their organizer. 

 

Regina shrugs. “They got old,” is all she says. 

 

Emma nudges her, feeling at least some of the tension leading up to this event begin to dissipate. “So I guess you won a date with me, huh? I like to be wined and dined, but you’ll have to pay a lot more than a thousand bucks for me to put out. Or buy a  _ lot  _ of wine.” 

 

“Emma, the last time I got you drunk, you crawled into my bed and sang me Twinkle Twinkle Little Star until you passed out. I don’t think the wine would help.” Finally,  _ finally _ , there’s a hint of a smile on Regina’s face. “This auction is barbaric. We can go home and forget the date–” 

 

“No,” Emma says hastily, and Regina’s smile definitely widens for a moment before she schools her features into something impassive again. “You won fair and square, right? You just paid for at least a semester or two of gender and women’s studies for Robyn so she’ll never grow into Zelena. You earned this date.” 

 

“I guess I can live with that,” Regina says grudgingly, and Emma might believe her tone if her hand wasn’t still in Emma’s, gripping her tightly as though she can’t remember how to let go.


	9. Chapter 9

Zelena’s business is bursting at the seams since the auction, and Emma watches the steady flow of traffic in and out from her vantage spot outside the station. There’s a sucker born every minute, and she thinks wryly that Regina’s curse must have birthed a whole lot of suckers all at once.

 

Someone walks past her and then stops, doubling back to beam at her. It’s a man she hardly knows. He works in the dollar store down the road, and he greets her with a good morning on the days when they pass each other on the way to work. “Sheriff!” he says brightly. “When’s the big day?”

 

“The big day…?” Emma repeats, bewildered. “I…my birthday is in a few weeks, I guess?”

 

The man gives her an odd look. “Your big date with the mayor,” he clarifies. “I heard Zelena was planning on streaming it for your fans–”

 

“Fans,” Emma says slowly. “I don’t…please tell me she isn’t going to film our date.”

 

The man shrugs. “I’m just a simple fan of your personal life,” he says, putting up a disarming hand. “I don’t work in behind-the-scenes.” He lowers his voice. “She likes those little glass horse sculptures. Buys a little keychain one every now and then.”

 

Emma blinks at him. “I know. I _live_ with her.” She shakes her head, having had enough of being outside where she has to share the same space as _people_ , and heads back for the station.

 

“Also Tupperware! And plastic spoons!” the man calls after her, and she closes the door securely before he can offer any other helpful ideas.

 

Mulan is sitting at her desk, throwing crumpled balls of paper into the trash. “What was that all about?”

 

“The dollar store guy wants me to give Regina a bouquet of plastic spoons for our date.” Emma plops down into her seat. It rolls backward, hitting the wall. “He also said something about Zelena trying to film it, which is just ridiculous enough to sound true–” Mulan suddenly looks very shifty. “ _Mulan_.”

 

“It’s publicity! Haven’t you noticed how publicity has been paying off for the agency? Zelena hired Tamara to work with her because they’re juggling so many clients.”

 

“I’m helping with publicity! I’m doing an interview with the Mirror today! But I’m also cancelling our reservations at Tiana’s tomorrow,” Emma says, stabbing her pen into a notepad. It bores through a dozen pages. “I’m not a publicity stunt.”

 

Mulan gives her a moderately sympathetic look. “You kind of are. Wasn’t that the whole point of Zelena taking you on as a client?” Emma gives her a pleading look. She sighs. “I’ll have Zelena get rid of the mid-date interviews. I can’t stop her from filming the actual date, though.”

 

“Mid-date–” Emma splutters, glaring at Mulan. Mulan holds up a warning finger, and Emma inhales. “Okay. Cool. No interviews. That’s something.” She chews on the end of the pen. “Something better would be having the date in our own house, alone, but–”

 

“That’s not a date,” Mulan says, rolling her eyes at her. “That’s the same dinner you have every day. What are you going to do, cook together and talk about Henry while you play footsie under the table?”

 

That sounds pretty great, actually. “Still not a _date_ ,” Mulan says, eyeing her as though she knows exactly what Emma’s thinking. “For my first date with Zelena, I took her to a shooting range a few miles out and taught her how to point a gun. Then we saw a community theater performance of _Wicked_ and got dinner on the way home.”

 

“That…sounds surprisingly reasonable for a Zelena-organized date,” Emma says, impressed.

 

Mulan laughs. “You think I’d ever let Zelena plan one of _our_ dates? I asked her out, I got to pick the venue.”

 

“You asked _her_ out?” Somehow, Emma had imagined Mulan’s relationship with Zelena as Zelena calling the shots and Mulan following reluctantly.

 

Mulan shrugs. “She wasn't exactly subtle about liking me. And I liked her. I've had way too many crushes fall apart because I waited around for them to notice that I liked them.” She smiles, her eyes somewhere far off. Emma watches her, bemused. “Zelena has a quality, you know? When she cares about something, you can't help but care right back.” She jerks back to the present, grinning at Emma. “I mean, look at you. Zelena’s made you her bitch and you're just taking it. I admire that in a woman.”

 

Emma raises her eyebrows. Mulan snorts. “Go do your interview. With the _Mirror_ ,” she drawls out, and Emma stops to frown back at her. There's something about the way she'd said that…

 

She shrugs it off and heads to Granny’s, where she's supposed to be meeting the reporter for lunch. Sidney isn’t there, but there’s a girl sitting in one of the books with a laptop open, staring expectantly at her. She looks pretty young to be a reporter– maybe a high school intern?– but Emma gingerly sits down opposite her. “Emma Swan.”

 

The girl snorts. “I know who you are.” She sticks out a hand. “Eilonwy.” Emma shakes it, bemused, and the girl says, “So, who are you wearing?”

 

“What?”

 

“Who are you wearing?” the girl repeats. “Tomorrow night,” she clarifies. “If you know who Regina’s wearing, too, that’d be great.” Emma’s eyes widen. This is definitely the first time she’s been asked _that_.

 

“Uh,” she says, blinking. “I…haven’t figured that out yet? I thought Zelena wanted me to do an interview about the agency. Does the _Mirror_ have a fashion section now? Am I really the person to come to about fashion? I had a frilly stage in my _early thirties_.”

 

Eilonwy shakes her head, her expression offended. “I’m not with the _Mirror_ ,” she says. “I’m with _StorybrookeMag_.” Emma stares at her. Eilonwy stares back. “Have you…not heard of us? We broke up Henry and Violet! We’ve been following you since you came to town!” She takes a deep breath, holding up her hands. “Okay, I’m cool. I’m cool. We’re not here to talk about the agency. We’re here to talk about your date tomorrow.”

 

Sparing her the mid-date interviews seems to have…only spared her the mid-date ones. “Why can’t you interview Regina instead?”

 

“Are you crazy? She’s scary.” Eilonwy shudders, then brightens. “So tell me, when did you realize you were in love with Regina? Or was it love at first sight?” She sighs dreamily.

 

“I… _what_? I’m not answering that.”

 

Eilonwy isn’t deterred. “Where are you at? Second base? Third? Have you two slept together yet?”

 

“No! I mean– what the hell is this interview?” Emma puts her hands on the table, propelling herself out of her seat. “I’m not doing this.”

 

Eilonwy frowns at her, her eyes glinting hard and dangerous. “You know, we’re the premier source for Swills content online.” _Swills._ That can’t possibly be… “I don’t think you want to piss us off.” She types something quickly on her laptop, her face set.

 

“Are you threatening me?” Emma asks, brow furrowed as she watches the girl.

 

Eilonwy shrugs. “I’m just a kid,” she says sweetly, and Emma swears she can feel a chill run down her back. “Check the _Mag_ tonight. My article will be up.”

 

* * *

 

“You picked a fight with _StorybrookeMag_?” Regina says incredulously. They’re in the kitchen, Emma washing dishes while Regina dries. “Do you really think that’s a good idea? After what they did with Henry and Violet?”

 

“What _did_ they do with Henry and Violet?” Emma wonders, scrubbing a glass. “You know what? I don’t care. What is it, some kind of high school publication?”

 

“Tumblr,” Regina corrects her. “It’s the premier source for Swills content online.”

 

Emma pauses, the soap suds dripping from her arms into the sink. “Why does Swills sounds suspiciously like–”

 

“It’s a portmanteau. Swan and Mills,” Regina says, and she’s smirking when Emma turns to look at her. “What, you thought we didn’t have fans in this town? Rooting for us to date for _years_?” she drawls.

 

Emma, who has in fact been rooting for them to date for years, is taken aback. “Reddit didn’t seem to be thinking of it,” she challenges.

 

Regina shrugs. “Reddit and Tumblr are two entirely different worlds.” She takes over rinsing the glass, moving in beside Emma and laying a light hand against Emma’s back to balance herself. Emma can feel each individual finger, burning into her. “Didn’t you supervise Henry’s Internet use back when he would stay with you when he was younger?”

 

“I stuck my head in the door,” Emma protests. “I didn’t search his Internet history and make accounts on every social media site he did.” Regina finishes drying the glass and puts it away. “ _Swills_? What kind of name is that? Why couldn’t we be Remma?”

 

“Easy, tiger,” Regina says, her hips swaying as she walks past Emma to the dining room. “We haven’t even gone out on our date yet.” She laughs, which raises the question _again_ of what this date is supposed to be. “You still owe me for saving you from Whale,” Regina says, which doesn’t clarify anything at all.

 

So…is this a friendly date? Is this a just-give-up-it’s-Zelena date? Is this any different from any other time they’ve gone out to eat together. There’s something to be said for a blind date where you don’t know the other person beforehand, instead of making out with them against the very fridge you’re walking past– and also being in love with them and sharing a house and a son with them.

 

“You’re right. Maybe I’ll put out after all,” Emma reflects, peeking out from under her eyelashes to watch Regina’s reaction. Regina’s eyes are dark and hooded, full of promise, and Emma gulps and promptly loses whatever upper hand she’d wrangled. “So this _StorybrookeMag_ –”

 

Regina slides into her seat at the table, opening her laptop. “Story’s up,” she says. There’s a picture of Emma at the top of the blog post, unmistakably from that afternoon at Granny’s, taken at an artsy angle and then Photoshopped. _How…?_

 

She doesn’t want to know.

 

Below the picture is an article that looks like a fucking _Variety_ piece, much too long to be justified by a five-minute conversation. _Emma Swan is wearing her signature jacket when she walks into Granny’s, casual jeans and the sheriff’s badge clipped to its waistband. She settles into a seat, her eyes distant as she recalls the moment she’d first fallen in love with Regina Mills_.

 

“I did _not_ ,” Emma says, gaping at the article and then Regina. Regina is still reading the article, two fingers resting against her lips. _By the end of our conversation, it’s clear that Swan thinks of little else. But it does beg the question: is this a relationship doomed to failure before it begins?_

 

_As Swills fans, we’ve carefully curated every interaction over the years, and no one knows them both better than we do. It’s clear that they care about each other and it’s clear that they want to be together, but by jumping the gun and leaping straight into a familial relationship with their son, they’ve fallen into a passionless false marriage._

 

 _How can a date at this point be anything but an unbridled failure? We regret to announce that, after all these years of waiting, Swills might just be…boring_.

 

“This is a PR crisis,” Zelena says the moment Emma picks up her ringing phone. “You’ve been given Eilonwy’s kiss of death. Don’t you remember what happened to Henry and Violet? The date is doomed.” She ponders. “We’re going to have to have you date someone else first. Someone very eligible with enough chemistry that we can create a rivalry between them and Regina–”

 

“I’m not going on another date,” Emma says furiously into the phone. “Regina paid you a thousand bucks to date me, and I’m not going to–” Zelena hangs up.

 

And somehow, this article _means_ something to people. Mary Margaret calls to tell her tearfully, “I’m so sorry. I was really hoping there’d be wedding bells soon.” Marian stops by with cookies because, “I thought you could use something.” In the morning, Henry’s shoulders are slumping and the man from the dollar store hands her a twenty-pack of styrofoam bowls with a pitying look.

 

Eilonwy lurks outside the station. “Sure you don’t want to give me that interview?” she says, smiling a victorious smile at Emma.

 

Emma narrows her eyes at her. “Nope.” She opens the door and then shuts it again.

 

Mulan, the only person in this town who has her head screwed on straight, says, “If you want to switch shifts so you can take the night tonight, I’ll understand.” Utter betrayal.

 

“I am going on a date tonight,” Emma says, teeth gritted. “No matter what some teenager has posted about me on her Tumblr.”

 

“She’s very good at this,” Mulan says. “You should look at her old Swills stories.”

 

“Don’t call it _that_ .” But Emma, despite herself, opens the blog on her work computer, clicking on the _#Swills_ tag and scrolling back.

 

Eilonwy wasn’t kidding. The tag goes back years, all the way to a picture of her with Regina at Granny’s on one of her first days in Storybrooke. It’s emblazoned with the caption _STRANGER SPOTTED IN TOWN!_ Below it is the rather prescient, _I give it a week before Swan decides that she’s staying here for good_.

 

The blog has a number of curators. Ava appears to have moderated it for some time a few years ago, and there’s the startling picture of Emma on what was supposed to be her wedding day, sitting on the porch of her old house. The caption is short. _Did Emma finally smooch the girl? Survey says: probably._

 

There’s a photo of the two of them squabbling outside Granny’s years ago, after Emma had first brought Marian back to the present. _This definitely ends with the two of them_ ~~_banging_~~ _having some heartfelt conversation and fighting the bad guys_ , the caption announces.

 

It’s frighteningly on target, _yes_ , but it’s also pretty easy to be on target when it comes to Emma and Regina. Except maybe that one of the two of them arguing in the street, before the curse had been broken, with the caption, _One of them is definitely going to accidentally poison their son. Hopefully they’ll succumb to their undying attraction after they save him._ “I’m not impressed,” she mutters. “So they guessed a few things right. I could have guessed these, too. It’s always curses, amnesia, big villain, underwhelming follow-through. Nothing changes in small towns.”

 

Mulan hmms noncommittally. “Has Regina seen these before?” Emma wonders.

 

“She probably looked over them after what happened with Henry and Violet,” Mulan suggests. “Honestly, I thought you had, too. That lesbian U-Haul meme with the two of you in the Bug together was a pretty big deal. You even put the magnet on the water cooler.”

 

“That was a _meme_ ? I thought it was a housewarming gift. What about the beanbag pillow? And the matching Snuggies with the print?” Emma still _wears_ that Snuggie. Her fondest memory remains the single time she’d convinced Regina to put hers on, too, and they’d sat out on the deck in the backyard and had cocoa together. Then Henry had snapped that picture and posted it to Facebook and…well. At least Emma still has hers, lightly singed.

 

Mulan shrugs. “I thought you knew. Didn’t you ever wonder how Regina became mayor again while her mother was terrorizing the town? _StorybrookeMag_ says it’s a good idea and it happens.” She searches for something on the blog and emerges with _And listen, I might be fifteen but even I know that Regina Mills is the only person in the town who might be able to save us all from being arrested by the IRS and look hella hot doing it._ “I did a lot of reading back when I got here. I’d have no idea what I was doing without them.”

 

“This is ridiculous,” Emma declares, scrolling through the other messages that had come up with Mulan’s search. There’s a picture of Zelena with Robyn, and the caption _I might be fifteen but I’m pretty sure that matchmaker is a solid career plan for Z._ It’s dated a day before Zelena had opened her dating app, and Emma scowls at it.

 

“It’s fated,” Mulan says simply.

 

Emma thinks– _how about we make today the day we both beat fate?_ – and says, “Listen, nice top with pants that make my ass look great or a dress?”

 

* * *

 

She goes with the dress. It’s simple, cut high at the neck and tight at the waist, and her only concession to something other than neutral is the dark turquoise color. She’d found it laid out on her bed with three other choices and a reminder to angle her left side toward the cameras, and the obnoxious _you’re welcome_ text from Zelena goes unanswered.

 

Regina is out when Emma gets home, and she paces downstairs, wondering when she’s going to get ready– and then there’s a knock at the door and Regina is on the porch, dressed in a deep red with a false smile on her face. “Zelena wanted me to give you a bouquet for the cameras,” she says through her teeth. “I’ll be damned if I have this micromanaged by her.”

 

There’s a flash from behind her, Eilonwy crouched beneath a bush, and Regina says, “You look beautiful,” in a low enough voice that the videographer can’t pick it up from the other end of the porch. She reaches for Emma’s hands, holds them loosely in her own, and it’s the first thing about this moment that doesn’t feel choreographed.

 

Emma feels the smile spread across her face, tentative and affectionate, and says, “I would die for the dress you’re wearing.” A smile bursts onto Regina’s face, and she rolls her eyes, still beaming–

 

“Hold that pose,” the photographer says. “Good. No, where’d the smiles go?”

 

Regina calls her sister when they’re safely in the car. “Tone it _down_ ,” she orders. “This is only good publicity if we don’t immediately fire you.” She twists her key in the ignition, her hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel as she listens to Zelena’s response.

 

Emma snatches the phone from her before she can respond. “Hey,” she says when Regina turns her glare on her. “We’re on a date, okay? Us. Not Zelena. We can just…turn around and go somewhere else if you want.”

 

This is the point where Regina usually softens, realizes she’s being ridiculous and agrees to Emma’s plan. This isn’t the point where Regina accelerates and drives in a fury to Tiana’s, staring through the windshield with renewed stubbornness.

 

And their date is off to a miserable start.

 

They’re sitting at their table no more than two minutes before their server brings them each a glass of wine they hadn’t ordered. “Compliments of that man there, who says, ‘Get out while you still can,’” he says, jerking a thumb toward the dollar store guy. Emma gives him a dark look and drinks the wine anyway. It’s very good. Regina downs hers in one long sip.

 

More drinks appear at their table while they wait for their food, some with well or ill wishes, some without any explanation. One glass is only for Emma, and Regina glowers at Whale (who _has_ a date) for a long time while Emma sips at it. “This is ridiculous,” she says to their server. “No more complimentary drinks.”

 

And when the drinks are cut off, they’re left with only each other. The photographers aren’t quite as blatant in the light of the restaurant, and Tiana kicks Eilonwy out when she tries ordering them a drink as a minor. It should be fine now, even with all eyes on them, and Emma smiles uncertainly and says, “Well.”

 

“Well,” Regina agrees, looking nearly as uncomfortable as Emma feels.

 

“Food’s good,” Emma offers. Regina bobs her head. “This ravioli sauce is…good.”  Regina bobs her head again. “Have you tried it yet?”

 

Regina looks startled. “No,” she says, flushing. “I suppose I haven’t.”

 

“Here.” Emma pushes the piece too eagerly to Regina’s mouth and it drips onto her dress, staining a white trail down it. “Oh, fuck. Let me–”

 

“No!” Regina barks out. Emma stares at her. “No,” Regina repeats in a lower tone, swallowing. “I’m sorry. I–”

 

“You’re on edge,” Emma says tightly. “We’re both on edge.” A small, childlike part of her wants to cry. She’s been quietly fantasizing about this date for _years_ , certain deep inside that it’d be the kind of perfect that they write fairytales about. She’d also told herself that she doesn’t _want_ to date Regina, that she _can’t_ be in love with Regina, that any shift in their relationship would destroy the framework of their lives together. It’s a special kind of crushing to discover that the latter argument had been right, all along. “How was– how was your day today?” she tries determinedly.

 

Regina, who’s always been too good at reading her, looks as though she’s near tears as well. “It was fine,” she says abruptly, glaring at the table for a moment. “It was…everything was…boring,” she finishes dully. The white cream sauce is still on her dress, untouched. It’s probably ruining a dozen photo ops. “Boring,” Regina repeats.

 

“Boring,” Emma echoes, pushing the ravioli around on her plate. “Yeah. Me, too.” There had been things that had happened today– the kind of things that she’d normally be bursting to tell Regina at dinner– and they all feel suddenly inconsequential. She can’t even bring them to mind. “Uh,” she tries.

 

“Nice weather we’ve been having,” Regina offers.

 

“Weather!” Emma says, a little too loudly. Whale snickers. He’d brought a date here himself as some kind of aggressive play on Emma, a blonde woman who looks obnoxiously like her from behind, and he’s only one table over. “I mean, yeah. Nice weather. I heard it might rain tomorrow, though.”

 

“Oh.” Regina looks entirely too despondent at the thought of rain. “Well, it was nice until now.”

 

“That counts,” Emma says quickly, miserable. She’d had more fun with Regina on her date with Nuka.

 

They return to their food in tense silence. Emma sneaks a glance at Regina and sees her, jaw tight and eyes down, shredding her salad with her knife and fork. “Do you want more of my ravioli?” she tries.

 

“No, thank you,” Regina says, her shoulders slumped.

 

When they’re done, it’s to more tension, awkward silence between them at the table. Their server appears at the table, dessert menu in hand, and Emma says, “Check, please,” before he can suggest extending this meal.

 

“You paid a thousand dollars for this date,” Emma says when she gets the check. _A thousand dollars_. For terse conversation and a night that feels more like a death sentence than a date. “I– I can pay for the food.”

 

Regina shakes her head. “No. I bought the date, I pay for it.” She casts a spiteful glare at the table beside them, where Whale is talking and his date looks bored over her cantaloupe. “Even Whale would have had that courtesy.”

 

“Whale’s a _fucking troll,_ ” Emma mutters. They split the check, another humiliation for a terrible, terrible night.

 

She stares at her phone once they’re in the car, the social media alerts coming in one after the other. Some are smug reminders to trust _StorybrookeMag_ , others sound more like condolences for a relationship they’d apparently been rooting for. Mulan’s _what the hell happened???_ is the most representative, and Mary Margaret’s _don’t you dare give up now_ the most exhausting.

 

 _Don’t you dare give up now_. On what? Miserable, heartbreaking attempts to make something work that should never have been introduced? She’d been so optimistic, so sure that tonight would end…in any way but this. And now she’s itching just to get out of the car, to hide in her room and put some distance between herself and Regina.

 

Regina parks the car and says, her voice rough and her eyes on the verge of bloodshot, “I’m so sorry, Emma.”

 

“So am I,” Emma murmurs, and she opens the car door, walks in silence inside, and goes upstairs to her room to sink into the aftermath of the worst date ever in peace.

 

Regina doesn’t follow.

 

* * *

 

She calls Zelena after a half hour of lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling and willing herself not to cry. “I’m out,” she says, standing to pace through the room. “I’m done with Storybrooke Singles.”

 

“I’ve been waiting to hear _that_ for a long, long time,” Zelena says, sounding gleeful, and Emma doesn’t understand until she goes on. “One hundred percent success rate! I can’t believe it took _this long_ for you two to get your act together, but–”

 

“ _No_ , Zelena,” Emma cuts her off, and in a savage, bratty way, she’s relieved to have someone else to make miserable instead of dwelling in it. “I’m done with all of it. Dating. Dating Regina. All of it. Eilonwy was right.” Zelena is struck silent. Emma inhales, long and shaky. “I’ve spent…so much time lately either trying to get over Regina or trying to get _with_ her. And it’s been a mess. I don’t think I’ve ever dated someone without it being a mess, and I can look at…at broken engagements and prison and all of that as other people’s faults but at some point…I don’t know.” She knows she’s rambling but she can’t stop. “When you screw up a date with the woman you thought was the love of your life–”

 

“You suck it up,” Zelena says from behind her. Emma turns around. Zelena’s lying on her bed, propped up against the wall behind it. “Sorry,” she says, examining her nails. “You just kept going on and on with you pity party. I thought this would be faster. Suck it up, Swan!” she barks out. “So you had a bad date. You think a bad case of the nerves is enough to doom a relationship? You think a fifteen-year-old knows your relationship with Regina better than you do?”

 

“Didn’t you base your entire career over a recommendation from that Tumblr?”

 

Zelena throws up her hands. “Well, they’re smart! But they’re also vindictive as fuck, and you _know_ they had an ulterior motive for tonight. Why are you so consistently _stupid_ about Regina? What are you afraid of?”

 

Emma can’t answer that. Zelena shakes her head disgustedly. “She’s terrible about this, but you’re even worse. I don’t know why either of you thinks that being _passive_ will change anything–”

 

“We don’t _want_ to change anything,” Emma says hoarsely. She can feel the buildup of tears in her throat, threatening to break free. “Changing things leads to nights like tonight. We were doing just fine until you decided to interfere in my love life–”

 

“Your love life was sitting around, waiting for Regina to fall in love with you. For crying out loud, Emma, you thought she was _straight_ and you were still doing this. And she was exactly the same. Isn’t it time you took a chance?” Zelena demands. “What’s Regina doing right now?”

 

“I don’t know–” Emma catches sight of her phone on the night table, lit up with a notification from Snapchat. It’s from Regina. “Oh,” she says, her heart breaking all over again, and she opens the image.

 

It’s dark, nothing visible but the dim outline of the house from the backyard, and the message says, _Come outside_.

 

“Well,” Zelena says, sitting back with a satisfied smile on her face. “What do you know?” Emma heads for the door, her heart thumping again. “I’ll bill you for the overtime!” Zelena calls after her. “And don’t you _dare_ try firing me again. _I_ terminate _you_!”

 

Emma ignores her. The house is quiet, and Henry’s coat is gone from where it had been carelessly flung over the railing. The sliding doors in the dining room are open, and Emma pushes the screen door open and steps out onto the patio.

 

“Hi,” Regina says. Emma stares. There’s a table on the patio, set for two and lit with candles. Regina stands behind it, her wan face flickering in the candlelight, six purple-blue orchids in her hand. “I thought we could try again at that thousand-dollar first date.”

 

“How many times?” Emma says, only half joking.

 

Regina smiles, her eyes bright. “As many times as it takes to manage a good one,” she says ruefully. She steps forward, proffering the flowers. “I trashed Zelena’s,” she says by way of explanation. “But I do know how to show a girl a good time.”

 

She sets the orchids in a vase on the table that she’d already filled with water. Emma finds her voice. “When did you–” The flowers glow in the candlelight, flickering the same pale blue and vibrant purple that their magic makes together. “Where did you get those from?”

 

Regina shrugs. “Mr. French won’t notice a few missing flowers in the morning.”

 

“You stole– you stole flowers for me?” Regina is many things, some of them indisputably awful, but never once had Emma thought of her as a _thief_. Thief is her gig, and Regina is much too proud to–

 

Regina shrugs again. “I wanted to do this right,” she says simply. “No cameras, no one watching– I know we already ate, so I poofed over to Granny’s and picked up some cheesecake–”

 

 _Isn’t it time you took a chance?_ “I love you,” Emma says suddenly, and steps forward to kiss Regina. It’s chaste, slow, nothing at all like the heated kisses they’d had in the kitchen or the desperate kiss before her wedding. It’s quiet, peaceful, as simple as the words Emma had blurted out before she’d reached for Regina. Regina kisses her back with the same gentleness, her thumb stroking Emma’s cheek.

 

When they part, they aren’t gasping for breath or staring at each other in shock. They’re smiling, eyes locked, and Regina says teasingly, “Saying ‘I love you’ on a first date? You must really want to get laid tonight.” She considers. “Or really like cheesecake. Possibly both.”

 

“Mm,” Emma says thoughtfully, because Regina is currently kissing her again and it’s hard to speak through that. She gives up on explaining and kisses her back instead, pausing only so Regina can murmur, “I love you, too.”

 

Emma smiles into the kiss, pressing her forehead to Regina’s for a moment as they part. “It’s the cheesecake thing, isn’t it,” she says.

 

“Don’t make me write another Yelp review,” Regina says warningly. She straightens, slipping her hand into Emma’s and leading her to her seat. “I’m sorry earlier was…”

 

“It was a disaster,” Emma agrees, sitting down. “But you know what they say about dress rehearsals.”

 

“Terrible dress rehearsal, perfect first date with the best friend you’re in love with?” Regina suggests.

 

Emma knows she’s grinning stupidly and she can’t seem to find it within herself to care. “With cheesecake.”

 

Regina shakes her head. “I can’t believe that I spent a thousand dollars buying a date with you when I could have just offered a dessert and you’d have jumped off that stage and run off with me.”

 

“You could have offered me arsenic and I’d have still jumped off that stage,” Emma says dryly. “I don’t think I’ve been very good at hiding exactly how gone for you I am.”

 

Regina scoffs. “Please. You being easily embarrassed and checking me out a few times doesn’t make you _in love_.” She sits back, looking very dubious at the idea, and Emma stares at her in dawning understanding.

 

“Oh, my god,” she says.

 

“What?”

 

Emma points at her in disbelief. “You really _are_ as bad as me. How did you come up with this? Did Zelena talk to you, too?” Regina is suddenly very fascinated by her cheesecake. “You didn’t pay her the overtime, did you? _Did you?_ ”

 

“She did help me out,” Regina says, defensive. “And all Storybrooke Singles proceeds are going to RMCF, anyway. And I’m still more self-aware than _you_ . You thought I was _straight_.” She stands up. “You know what? This second first date needs some work. Maybe we should try again–”

 

Emma stands, too, crosses to Regina and kisses her instead. “I love you,” she says, revelling in the opportunity to express it. Every _I love you_ feels transgressive, feels like crossing a line that allows for no retreat, and Emma treasures the defiance that blooms within her at each crossing. “I love you,” she says again, and she holds Regina’s hands as she drops to her knees, Regina joining her to kiss her at the same level. “I love you,” she says, and she leans downward as Regina slides to the ground, kissing her lightly.

 

“I love you,” Regina whispers back. She deepens the kiss, tugging Emma to a crouch over her and tangling a hand in Emma’s hair.

 

They don’t finish the cheesecake for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for sticking with me!! This is nearly the end, just an epilogue coming up! appreciate y'all and you wonderful kudos and comments SO much <333


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pls be warned that this is image-heavy!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to y'all for all of your support and feedback throughout this story! Playing in a new genre is always difficult, and I'm so grateful for everyone who helped me through it. I've learned a lot from this and I can't wait to try again!
> 
> I have two fics coming out for Swan Queen Supernova in September (and a busy month, too!!) so I'm going to take a bit of time off from serious writing to READ. I'll be back soon enough!! <3
> 
> I've been thinking since the beginning that this is a fic that requires screenshots, but I also knew that it would take way too long to write if I were doing a full multimedia experience. So here's the alternative, all at once! Please be kind, I am no Photoshop whiz, and suspend your belief and enjoy!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can read more about how to support my writing [here!](http://coalitiongirl.tumblr.com/coffee) :)


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